Never, Never, Always, Forever
by whereSilencebegins
Summary: Peter has gone to London and grown up. When he returns to Never Land, he realizes just how misrepresented Hook really was and he finds himself drawn to the dark haired Captain. For anyone who likes yaoi and knows the story of Peter Pan!
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: Okay, yes, I know how this looks but I promise, Hook is not a pedophile and Peter is not...gross. Hook had been misrepresented and Peter is eighteen. Though, I do have to warn all of you who are about to read this; I have taken a beloved children's story and kind of...turned it on its head, so to speak ;p Somehow, it had turned out being one of my favorite stories so, yeah...hehe. PeterxMichael/HookxPeter boyxboy love, anal, oral and all that good stuff. It's not creepy at all and Hook is actually rather fun! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!  
**

Never, Never, Always, Forever 

**Journey:**

Seven years was a long time to be away from Never Never Land.

Seven years of not being able to fly, to wield a sword, to be shadowed by faeries and lusted after by mermaids. There was no freedom in growing up, too many rules to follow and not enough magic to ease the sting of homesickness. Actually, there was no magic. Nothing. Not a drop and he had long ago given up on feeling anything other than dried up, lonely. He was Peter Pan. He thrived on magic. Magic and imagination and the freedom of being able to go anywhere he wanted without ever having to answer to anyone. Seven years and it was time to go back home.

Peter knew why he had gone to London in the first place. When a pretty girl with strawberry blond hair and her two brothers had crashed into his life, he hadn't realized just how much of a mess they would make. The only person he had to blame was himself. He had brought them there in the first place. Tinkerbell had tried to warn him but he had ignored her, a testament to how arrogant he had been, thinking the little blond pixy had been jealous. Oh, how he should have listened! He had thought that in bringing Wendy, John and Michael along, he would be gaining three new additions to his rowdy bunch of disciples. He had thought he was making their family better. But he had never come across someone quiet like Wendy Darling before and the next thing he knew, they were leaving and taking just about all of the Lost Boys with them.

How he could have made such a grave miscalculation was beyond him and the defection of the boys he had called his brothers had cut him deeply. He supposed the promise of a real family, with a mother and a father, things that every lost child dreamed of, was just too strong of a lure to ignore. Even with the ability to fly, to see every wish come true, Never Land was no longer good enough. And he tried to shake it off, he really did. He was Peter Pan, king of Never Land! What did he need them for anyway? He could still thrive as the self-proclaimed ruler without the presence of his crew. Tinkerbell understood. She stayed. It had only been them in the beginning anyway.

Yet, it had not been enough and every night when he went to sleep, he found the usual ruckus of sleeping near more than a dozen other boys had been silenced and it was deafening. And he tried, tried to tell himself that it didn't matter. But it had and being on his own like that, now that he had gotten a taste of what it might be like with a family, had stumped his heart, making him feel a melancholy ache like he had never known before in his life.

Until he couldn't stand it anymore. Every night of staring at the stars, wondering, missing and he had just leapt into the air, eyes trained on a particular star, his little pixy in toe to find out what it might be like on the other side.

Really, though, he should have known. After all, he _was_ Peter Pan. With a spirit such as his, he would never be tamed and he would never stop longing to leap into the air once again, to be set free. It was safe to say he had tried. He had slipped in through a familiar window in the dead of night, finding all of his lost friends, finding John and little Michael and Wendy, all fast asleep in their beds. He had smiled, feeling less lonely than he had in months. The little faerie on his shoulder had heaved a sad little sigh, asked him if this was really what he wanted and he had nodded his unruly head, answering softly that it was. She didn't have to stay with him but she did because they were, by that point, inseparable and he could no sooner live without her than she could without him. Yet that hadn't been enough and he had settled onto the window seat, cool night air on his back and waited uneasily for the sun to rise.

He should have known.

In the morning all of his older friends, who had been adopted by the Darling family, had cheered upon seeing him curled up on that hard window seat, dreams shifting, dark and he had somehow found his confident smile as he faced them, announcing that he'd like to stay for a while with them, if the already enlarged family would accept him. Wendy had been more than thrilled to ask on his behalf and at the time he didn't recognize the glimmer of plans that had swirled in her bright eyes. He knows now he should have listened to Tinkerbell. Then he had been too caught up with being accepted, given a family. Of course they had accepted him. What was one more, after all, and Mrs. Darling's heart was so big, she couldn't turn away a child without a place or a family. And he had tried to tell himself that he was happy because wasn't this what he had wanted?

Despite that, though, he had trouble adjusting to the lack of freedom, to being just one among many, when he had been a mighty monarch that never aged, that was respected, had real enemies…could fly. Maybe it was because he was the most wild or that he still had his little pixy friend but he got into terrible trouble in the beginning, wanting to liven the dark city up just a little bit. It turned out, though, that adults were not of the same mindset as he and he often found himself sitting in a corner with a smarting behind and Mr. Darling eyeing him from the hall. Many times he thought of going back. He could; he still had Tinkerbell after all but then he would think about how lonely he had been, how the ache had driven him here in the first place and he turned away from the glittering night sky, soft reassurances pressed against his neck with soft, tiny lips.

The thing with living in London was that he would age.

At first that thought vexed him, making him feel trapped and he watched as first Wendy became an adult and then the rest of the boys, him not far behind. But it wasn't so terrible had he had once thought. Actually, once he had gotten used to the idea that the name Peter Pan meant nothing here and he had gotten wise as to the kind of pranks he played, he rather liked the life he had settled into. They went to school, met all kinds of new people, learned things every day, things he could never have imagined. Peter loved learning. It was like a new kind of adventure, soaking up information like a sponge, surprising everyone in the family when he became head of his class. It wasn't about the grades, though. That he couldn't give a rat's ass about. It was about the new things he could discover every day, opening new worlds, letting him explore to his heart's content.

All the same, he still missed his true home, the place where he could still fly, could never get old, could always be free. The other boys, they forgot, thoughts becoming more grounded, stable but he could never forget. His memories remained firm, always at the corner of his eye. They slowly stopped believing; unable to recall the magic of a place they had all called their home for many long years. Tinkerbell remained always with him, hiding under his fall of thick, chestnut hair he had grown long and left in a tail just so that the little golden pixy might remain unseen. That might have been one of the reasons he couldn't forget, why he could seem to stop staring when the sun had disappeared from the sky, leaving the sweeping expanse of silvery stars in its wake.

The longing in his heart left him torn, ripping him in two broken pieced for seven long years. He loved the family that he had been adopted into. Mrs. Darling's sweet disposition giving him more love than he could ever have dreamed of and her stern husband had an undeniable soft spot for the boy, even if he was a bit on the wild side. All the boys had become his brothers, their closeness unshakeable. Yet in his heart, locked away, he had another home and he knew, even if it was a long time from now, he would once again return to find his place among the stars.

Peter found growing up to be a rather…interesting experience. What he hadn't realized was it was just another adventure, things learned and experienced along the way unique and valuable. And, many times, strange.

Never before had he been conscious of his looks but one thing he picked up on as being a mortal was that looks seemed to be important. The first thing that had been done upon his arrival was his hair had been tamed (somewhat) and he had been given stuffy clothes that were neat and acceptable. Not to mention boring but that he kept between himself and Tinkerbell, who had giggled for twenty minutes after he had mumbled it under his breath. Yet as time went by, he saw how his brothers would stand before the mirror, judging themselves with critical eyes against a standard he did not quite understand. He was lucky if he remembered to comb his hair; that was how little he really cared for his appearance.

Then something happened that had him sneaking into the bathroom one night to stand before the silvery oval of the glass, assessing.

When Wendy had turned eighteen and he had been only fifteen, she had come home with several of her own friends from school, the girls that he had only met a few times before staying the night in celebration of Wendy's birthday. All the boys in the house, the ones that were not in boarding school, that is (everyone but himself three of the youngest boys and Michael) had been in an uproar. They were girls, after all, and would be staying the night in the same house. Peter had been confused, never really understanding the appeal of a woman, choosing to hang back and observe. But after dinner, when the boys were in the old nursery, the girls on the other side of the room and talking softly to themselves, he caught a snatch of their conversation, hearing his own name spoken.

"…about Peter? He's rather cute," one of the girls, the shortest one with dark hair was saying and he tried not to turn his head in their direction. He was once again sprawled on the window seat, eyes on the darkened sky, ignoring Michael and the others while they played a rowdy card game of war as he dreamed of flying when the feminine voice caught his attention. There was a little round of giggles, confusing him before Wendy's strident voice cut through the racket.

"I used to think so too. I even wanted to marry him but I don't think he'll ever grow up. He's just a little kid," she dismissed him so easily and while he gulped at the thought of marrying Wendy, who was nothing more than an older sister to him, he rather resented being called a little kid. He had grown just like everyone else, had made an effort to find his place in this world but that was all anyone thought about him. As an untamable, dismissible child.

"But he's already quite the looker," this was from the tall blond he had remembered was named Clarisse and he blushed furiously was another round of giggled agreement pealed through the room, someone adding a "can't wait to see what he looks like when he gets older," that bounced shrilly against the walls. Peter buried his face in a pillow, eyes caught once again by the silvery web of stars but for once he was not dreaming of what was beyond them. He was thinking about what he had heard and what it meant. He had never been very aware of how he looked. Looks had never really mattered before, not for him or for anyone else. But now, now the seed was planted and even when Tinkerbell grumbled darkly in his ear, wishing she could pull their hair for such foolish drivel, he was curious. So once everyone had drifted off to foreign shores of distant dreams, he had slipped from his bed, careful not to wake the pixy curled up on his pillow, he padded softly to the bathroom and silently flicked on the light

Now, he still didn't understand the standards that made people good looking but perhaps he did fit it. Wide, startlingly green eyes stared back at him from under a thick row of dark eyelashes, making his gaze rather girly, chestnut hair falling over his forehead and pulled back into a neat tie at the back of his neck. The hair itself was wavy, thick and nearly reached the small of his back. His face was still young looking, but his nose promised to be narrow and straight, his lips full, always ready to smile, cheekbones already high. His skin was the color of toffee, as he still couldn't seem to keep himself indoors for very long, a soft sprinkling of freckles arching over the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks. At only fifteen (he actually wasn't very sure just how old he really was, having been a child and immortal for countless years but fifteen felt right) he was just starting his growth spurts, keeping pace with John who was two years older, promising height. He was still thin but his shoulders were already broad and body long, something he supposed he would grow into.

All in all, it wasn't terrible and he stared at himself, green eyes unwavering as he tried to figure out why something such as this was so important. It shouldn't matter what he looked like. Right?

Even so, Peter tried harder after that, trying to keep himself neat, beginning to look at other people and see how his own looks stacked up against theirs. It confused him and made his head hurt and made Tinkerbell laugh at him when he tried to tame his thick waves that still fell into his eyes. And he noticed that people looked at him, began to see him, a glint in their eyes that he couldn't read. It made him feel uncomfortable, strange, unable able to read the jealous looks he received from his brothers, the pride he found in his parent's eyes and the increasing want he would find in not just Wendy's eyes but many on her friend's too. It made him long ever more for his home, for freedom, for the place behind the stars where he could just be himself without the world forcing itself upon him.

Peter passed his sixteenth birthday, then his seventeenth, learning, growing, starting to understand. The more he saw of the world that was London, the more complicated it became. He was sent away like all of his brothers to boarding school in the country side, and for a while he found a place where his was more comfortable, the wide open hills and glades tugging at his heart, dulling the longing just a bit. Just like everything else, this was just another journey, another opportunity to learn, to make more friends.

It was also the first place he learned about sex. Three hundred teenage boys living together in cramped quarters and it was bound to happen. He knew about boys and girls, about kissing and the like. He knew about marriage and a little bit about where babies came from by listening to people talk. But in reality, Peter was incredibly naïve and just when he thought he was beginning to understand, he was thrown all over again. Surprisingly enough, it was Michael that took him under his wing, the younger boy already rather experienced in his young age and who was rather cavalier with who he shared that experience with.

Peter had just wanted to find a little familiarity after a hard day of class and getting pushed around by fellow classmates (something else he couldn't understand; he had never done anything to offend anyone but everywhere he went, there were always the select few that tried to make his life hell) seeking out Michael in his room. His head had thudded angrily at his temples and he didn't have the familiar presence riding his shoulder as Tinkerbell had gotten mad at him that morning and had flown off in a huff. It was after curfew but he had found away to sneak through the cold, sweeping stone halls and not get caught, footsteps light, a skill he had learned when raiding certain pirate ships many years ago. Seeing the door to his brother's room had been somewhat a relief, the need to collapse at the edge of the younger boy's bed and vent weighting him limbs. Unsuspecting, he had pushed the door open and his greeting had shriveled up and died on his tongue.

There, on Michael's bed was his brother himself sprawled amid wrinkled sheets, wearing not a stitch and in the arms of another boy the brunette recognized from his Astronomy lecture. Michael's legs were parted and lifted, hitched around the other's slim hips, fingers digging into a sturdy back, head tossed back against the pillow. At first Peter thought he was in pain and was about to move to help him, not understanding what he was really seeing when the younger boy opened his eyes, looking up into the face of his companion who was moving in a smooth rhythm between his brother's legs and whispered in a thick voice Peter didn't recognize for more.

That was when Peter realized it wasn't pain he was seeing on his younger brother's face but something else and he stood in the doorway, stunned, as he watched, watched the slighter boy gasp and writhe, voice crying out to the ceiling before he was arching up, looking lost. He swallowed hard, barely comprehending what he had seen and couldn't even react when the two boys on the bed discovered him at the door, wide eyed and speechless. The boy whose name he didn't know was rather upset at first, threatening to smash Peter's face in but Michael was able to placate him with soft words and a gentle kiss (here a little more understanding had trickled into the brunette's numb mind). Soon the brothers were left alone, the younger still bare, gleaming with sweat and something else Peter couldn't name, covering himself with just a bed sheet before beckoning the older boy with a wary look in his eyes.

"How much did you see?" Michael had asked softly as Peter walked over to the disheveled bed on wooden legs, wishing he could understand this better. He struggled for an answer, face still blank, wondering at the heat that had suffused his body.

"I…I don't know," he whispered, voice broken in the warm, dark room and there had been pity in his brother's shadowed blue eyes. A slender hand reached out and caught his own, pulling him the last few steps to the edge of the bed. He sat abruptly, confusion stinging, wondering if his younger brother was upset with him. Then that hand curled around his cheek, soft and warm, offering the comfort he had come there seeking in the first place.

"Poor Peter. You still don't understand, do you?" he might have been annoyed at feeling so patronized by someone who was, for all intents and purposes, his younger brother. But he had just shaken his head, green eyes shadowed and wide, giving in when he was coaxed into curling into Michael's lap, trying to identify the glittering liquid on the younger boy's abdomen as his long hair was freed so slender fingers might card through it. The gesture relaxed him, preparing him for the explanation that was to come.

And Michael did explain it, in shocking, minute detail, telling Peter everything he knew, even offering brief illuminations into some experiences until his head was reeling and the heat in his body becoming uncomfortable. He didn't even realize his brother had finally stopped talking until his head was being gently lifted so he could look into shadowy pools of blue.

"Would you like to try?" the offer had taken him off guard, shocking him and while he could feel the stirrings of something different, heady, frightening, he just swallowed and bit his lip, caught in new territory that was more than a little terrifying. Learning had always been an adventure to him, something to relish but this was something he wasn't ready for. He hadn't even known something such as this even existed until now. So when he answered, his voice shook, ashamed for turning down a chance at learning something new.

"No…I…I don't think…no…" the last word was whispered and ducked his head, thick hair sweeping down to cover his face and there was a soft sigh as one of Michael's hands brushed along his cheek.

"It's alright, Peter. I understand," his voice had been soft and kind as he brushed slender knuckles over tawny skin. Peter's heart caught when the younger boy breathed the next words, "Ah, you're so beautiful, Peter," he shivered, once again terrified and fled the room, hating his weakness. Michael may understand but this was all too new, too big and he couldn't wrap his head around it. After all these years, he had just finally come to understand what it meant to love someone. He hadn't realized there was something that came after that.

After his talk with Michael, though, something had changed. Because he _wanted_ to know. He wanted to understand how something like what he had seen, like what his brother had described could be so potent, so strong. It was the first thing he had ever kept from Tinkerbell, mulling over it when he was supposed to be sleeping, listening to the soft snores of his roommate and the pixy curled next to his ear. He understood, now, how people's looks came into play, understood had love could turn from brotherly and familiar into something deeper, more compelling. And he began to think, would he have someone like that someday? He had never thought about it before because he hadn't really comprehended its existence. Yet, now…

A week later saw him sneaking from his room and slipping out onto the grounds to wander aimlessly with the glittering stars above his head. He hadn't expected to find Michael waiting for him in the gardens, a soft look in his eyes. There the offer made to him a week ago was repeated. This time, he accepted.

During the rest of his time at school, he learned about another side of being human.

Michael told him, before he touched Peter, that men usually did this kind of thing with women. It was the natural order of things but the older boy had just scoffed. Girls had never really meant much to him, other than that they existed and were people too. And once he knew a little bit more, he cringed at the thought of doing such with a girl. The younger boy had laughed quietly at his reaction before cupping Peter's chin with a gentle hand and pulling him into his first kiss.

What he and the youngest Darling boy did was not out of love. They were fond of one another, sure, but they were just mere lessons, another opportunity to experience something new and little by little, his eyes were opened, his fear trickling away, giving way to something a little more familiar. Longing.

Every time he would go back to his room, tired, sated, there was still something missing in his heart that he couldn't put a finger on. Each time, his eyes would lift to the heavens and he could wonder, wonder why even when he had something that was more than satisfying, it could also be less than fulfilling. He liked it. A lot. Michael was a good teacher and a gentle lover but Peter was sure that there had to be more to this. And when his head tipped back, caught in the silvery web above his head where his home winked quietly, calling to him, he couldn't shake the awful feeling that there was something missing.

All the while, Peter grew, filling out his frame, becoming beautiful, tall, slender, impossible hair now reaching past his waist, green eyes snapping in his handsome face, the envy of his classmates. It was still something he didn't put much stock in and got flustered every time his brother called him beautiful. He would much rather be able to fly then than be handsome. He learned, came to understand and with each passing day, wished to be set free.

It hit him the day he returned home, the same day he turned eighteen, became a man, just what it was he hadn't been able to pinpoint until now. As a matter of fact, it had shocked him so bad, even Tinkerbell was worried by his sudden silence. For when he had looked up into the sky at the stars as was his habit while stepping off the train, the face that came to mind nearly bawled him over. Michael had caught the sudden jaggedness in his demeanor as he brain stuttered to a halt, throwing him a frown before they were greeted by the rest of the family (what was left of it, at this point). Thank the stars for Michael for he was able to draw the attention from the green eyes that had turned inward, shut off. Even the shrill voice buzzing in his ear wavered, became inconsequential. For with that face had brought a jolt of desire like he had never felt before, a face familiar from the place he was from, from his true home.

The face that belonged to a one Captain James Hook.

At first Peter had been overwhelmed with self disgust. Hook was old! He had tried to kill the boy countless times, using the most despicable methods and coming up with the most evil plots. The pirate had been the one thing he was sure he _wouldn't_ miss when he left Never Land. And yet…

A week after his arrival back in the Darling house hold, a large formal dinner was held in honor of those who were still at home. Most of the others had already married, moved away, found lives of their own but there were some still left, like himself, Michael, Benny and George and little Ronny and they were all forced into their finest, stuffiest clothes. He had buried his still shocking revelation somehow, managing to function, but he forgot how to fasten his bowtie as he stood in the dim light of his bedroom, the one he shared with brothers already gone and his hair wouldn't cooperate, leaving him frustrated and still in front of his mirror by the time their guests started showing up. Tears were a sign of weakness but as a flash of a cruel smile and a sharp hook flashed through his mind, he dropped his face into his hand and sighed heavily, the back of his eyes prickling painfully. He still hated himself for thinking of someone such as the pirate Captain the way he had been but along side the self loathing, there was something else and it was eating away at him, the longing in his heart becoming a black pit with giant teeth, threatening to tear him asunder. He was so distracted, that he didn't even hear his door open until there was a soft chuckle behind him. Startled green eyes met bright blue and he returned the smile despite himself.

"You look like you could use some help," said Michael as he came to stand between the older boy and the mirror, peering up into Peter's face with a gentle arch of his eyebrows. The brunette sighed, raking his long fingers through his hair.

"I never did get the hang of tying one of these things," he muttered darkly, plucking at the stiff black material and was grateful when smaller hands knocked his own out of the way so the younger boy could tie it himself, face closed off. The atmosphere had changed that day, as if change was sneaking up on him and was about to give him a swift kick in the pants, making him jittery and a little sad. He just wished that whatever it was, the new adventure would be worthwhile.

Peter snagged the younger boy's hands when he was done tying the brunette's tie, catching the bright gaze, hating feeling like he was saying goodbye and wasn't even aware that he was leaving.

"Thank you, Michael," he said, voice that had become startlingly deep slightly broken, catching and the smile that he received in return told him the young boy knew he wasn't just talking about the bow tie. A slender hand gently slid over one tan cheek, the smaller boys' expression wistful.

"Can I brush your hair?" he asked in a small voice and, a lump thick in the back of his throat, he nodded, wishing there was something he could say that would make the awful feeling of something about to end go away. He sat the edge of his bed, letting his younger brother brush out his wild waves that he never did manage to tame then tie it back. Then his chin was caught and he shared the last kiss with the younger Darling boy, hard and desperate. The cerulean eyes that lifted to his were filled with tears and there was a hand fisted at the front of his good jacket as the younger boy titled his head to the side, mouth pressed in a firm line.

"Why do I feel like you're about to say goodbye?" the younger boy whispered and he choked back his own tears, wishing he knew the answer to that. Instead he hugged the smaller boy gently, offering not a word, and somehow, when they finally joined the party, they were both smiling.

The party was boring, filled with strangers and stiff manners and too much perfume and never since coming to this world did he want more than to be able to fly, to find his freedom among the stars. But here, he could not fly so he grit his teeth, hiding behind smile after false smile, unwilling to hurt the people he loved. There was good food and respectable dancing, over which his mind supplied great pits of leaping flames and the wild beat of the drums as dark skinned creatures flowed to the steady beat. His past overlay his present, confusing him, the longing spiking painfully. When he shook someone's hand, he saw blood thirsty pirates waving pistols and when he once again declined a young woman a dance, he saw beautiful women with scaly tails instead of legs trying to pull him into their watery domain, trying to seduce him. Most of all, he kept seeing the face of a pirate who was tall, commanding, not as ugly as he once thought, dark onyx eyes watching him over a stiff, red jacket. And then, at the end of the night, a bright cry of the crow on the morning air overlaid the announcement that had his heart stalling in his chest and his fear coming catapulting back.

He was to be betrothed to a girl his parents had picked out, a complete stranger, someone he had never met before.

Shock rendered him sick and while he might have been smiling, accepting the announcement with a plastic expression frozen in place, the feeling of change caught up to him, leaving him shaking, determined. Even the little pixy buzzing angrily under the fall of his hair didn't move him. He understood, then, why that night was going to be his last in London.

It was time for him to go home.

The horizon was already dull silver in the east when everyone had finally fallen asleep and he nudged Tinkerbell on his pillow, the soft touch of his wings gentle across his fingertips.

"Wake up, Tink," he whispered, letting her blink awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She spoke her confusion in a small voice and he smiled gently, knowing she had wanted to go home as much as he had these past seven years, "I need some of your dust," he answered, "We're going home," Spoken aloud, those words had a bright excitement flickering in his chest, warm, familiar, mirroring the loops the little faerie was doing around the room. He had never changed from his party clothes, the notion of finally, _finally_ being able to return to Never Land settling under his skin like a bright glow until he could barely contain it.

Peter stole through the quiet house, pausing at Michael's closed door to slip a note under it, pressing a kiss to the cool wooden panels before making his way up to the old nursery, skin nearly bursting from excitement. A small voice giggled in his ear as he threw the windows open, hair caught in the forceful breeze and he hoped he could remember what it meant to fly. He had unearthed a familiar sword, now a little too small, hooking it in his belt and before he leaped onto the window sill, the last dregs of night still cool against his face, he inscribed his goodbye into the wall. It was better like this anyway; Peter had never been very good at saying goodbye.

Then he was before the window, the warm web of golden dust settling over his skin as memories from his home flooded over him, heart humming, _finally, finally_. It was with this joy he soared into the dawn, eyes trained on that star, deep voice adding his laughter to the soft soprano circling his head.

And in the little room he left behind, his words carved deep into the wallpaper and wood…

_Thank you for being my family…Someday soon,_

_Peter Pan_

_

* * *

  
_

Michael smiled sadly when he found the little note shoved under his door that morning, knowing as soon as the announcement had been made at dinner the night before that that day would be the last he would see of Peter.

_I'm sorry I can't give you a proper goodbye. Thank you for everything you gave me; I think I understand now. Tell everyone I'll miss them,_

_Peter._

It had to happen this way. He knew Peter had to leave eventually. With a wistful sigh, he climbed back in bed, curling against the warm body of the same boy he had fallen in love with back at school who had snuck into the house late last night after the confusion of the party, earning a soft mumble. With Peter, it had never been about love but a mutual understanding, a discovery, a process of growing up. He just hoped as he wound his arms around a warm torso, steady pulse against his ear, that Peter would find what he was looking for.

_**To be continued...**_

**...and yes, Hook will be coming into the story, not to worry!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Brief note; Hook is very OOC but I describe why and considering this story's contents, he's OOC anyway, but for anyone out there that will have a problem with this, you were warned...**

**Homecoming:**

With every heartbeat, he was closer, with very breath, with very pulse, closer, until the star was no longer a star but a bright expanse of glittering color and he was being pulled forward, a gentle tugging against his limbs, drawing him deeper. And with every passing moment, the warm, bright feeling of being home, _home, I'm finally home_ pulsed through him. The excitement coursed higher as he caught the scent of warm, blue skies and brine, putting one last powerful surge into his flight. Then he was bursting through the clouds, the absolute freedom lending him another burst of energy and he spiraled up, hands raised over his head towards the blazing sun. And he tossed his head back with a throaty laugh, for what stretched out below him was the familiar sight of Never Land. Of his home.

Truly, he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the glittering landscape he gazed upon now and he just hung, suspended in the crisp, clear air, taking it all in with hungry, green eyes. A lush island with mountains and golden fields and wide expanses of sandy beaches reared out of the warm sapphire waters of the ocean. From where he was in the sky, he couldn't see detail but he drank in what he could see; the dip of a lagoon he knew was rocky and was home to more than twenty mermaids, the flat planes where hundreds of tepees had been erected and where drums could be heard at all hours of the night, flames turning the night sky orange. He could see the considerable stretch of forest that had been the site of his own base for so many years. There was a huge grin pulling at the corner of his lips as he pressed his hands to his hips, the high, cool wind whipping at his long hair, a certain pixy gibbering with uncontainable glee at his shoulder, glowing bright enough that even under the bright light of the sun she glowed. Peter spared her a warm smile, reaching out a long finger to brush over feather soft hair.

"You can go," he said softly, fondly and she gave a loud squeal of delight, pressing a kiss to his cheek before streaking off, a bright catapult through the shimmering air. He watched her, smiling, before letting his eyes turn to the one place that had been weighing on his mind since last night. A dark, shadowy bay, surrounded by the towering mountains where he knew a majestic wooden ship was docked, collecting barnacles, collecting malice. As high up as he was, the ship itself was just a speck but he found himself swallowing thickly, wondering if he had recalled wrong, if his mind had become twisted in the long years he had spent away. He wanted nothing more than for that particular ship to become nothing more than a place to avoid like it used to be but now he was curious. Curious and something more that rang somewhat familiar yet different and it gnawed at him, drawing him to a place full of bad memories and darkness.

With an effort, Peter tore his eyes away and sprang into motion, following the faint remains of a pixy trail, wind tearing at his hair as he plummeted towards the ground, the exhilaration of a controlled fall flaming through him, snatching his breath away, stealing it from his very lungs. He had forgotten in the gloom of a world without magic how it had felt to feel the wind in his hair, what it was like to see the ground rushing at him at impossible speeds. So much so that he wasn't sure if he should be laughing or crying, heart full to bursting point.

The green island was suddenly impossibly big as he angled towards the towering cliffs and golden planes, skimming over the bright grass, the soft tuffs brushing against his outstretched fingertips. A mini forest of conical structures bit into the flat landscapes, and he dipped so he would fly between them, weaving through the painted community as dark skinned people lifted darker heads to watch him with wide eyed amazement. He whooped when several of the children chased him, waving as they laughed, delighted and the adults pointed, wondering. Their shocked faces stayed with him as he sped towards the jagged mountains, smiling. No doubt everyone had thought him gone for good and while he might look different, older, surely there was no mistaking who he was.

He bypassed the mountains, falling below the cliffs and headed towards the lagoon, where bright waters of the purest turquoise rippled with the movement of jewel bright fins and glittering beauty. They were all still there, sun bathing on the rocks or cutting leisurely through the water, glancing up when he warned them with a wordless cry of greeting. Ethereal faces lit up upon his approach, his name shouted into the wind and he didn't even slow down as he sped towards the water, slipping under the surface with a flashy splash. The water was so clear he could see each of their faces as they surrounded him, bubbly voices exclaiming over how he had changed, touching, tugging at his hair, his strange clothes and he smiled at them, enjoying the attention. One of them was bold enough to slip her arms around his neck and he grabbed her around her slim waist, offering a water logged kiss on soft, slippery lips. Then he winked and was surfacing with a gasp and a grin, shining water falling gracefully through the air. The mermaid's voices were followed him as he tore away like the tinkling of gently shaken wind chimes, soaking and ridiculously happy, the taste of sunlight and fish lingering on his lips.

Full of water, the clothes he was wearing had become heavy and he tore at them as he rounded over the mountains, headed towards the highest spot on the entire island, chucking the heavy jacket and the thick boots, the socks and the vest until he was in nothing but a dripping blouse and a pair of black trousers. The bowtie he was unwilling to let go of as it reminded him of what he had left behind, wrapping it instead around his upper arm, keeping it for the memory of blue eyes and a soft smile.

Then he reached the pinnacle of the land, a flat plateau that over looked the entire expanse of the island, the only place where everything could be seen and he shook out his wild mane, grinning as he shot through the air. Peter paused, looking over his domain and gave in to the joy brimming over in his heart, throwing back his head and crowing his delight to the sky. The deep sound, so familiar and yet so different rang out over the land and every head turned, seeing the bright vision of shining gold in the sky. It was a proclamation, an announcement.

He was back. Peter Pan had returned to Never Land.

* * *

Mornings were never Captain Hook's favorite part of the day.

No part of the day was, as a matter of fact, as he had always been partial to night time, a time of shadows and mystery. He imagined that the darkness suited him better than the sunlight ever could. Not that he didn't _like_ the sun. He did, it just made him feel out of place, as if he wasn't worthy to be bathed in its golden light. Long ago he had come to terms with the envy that clawed through him for beings that dwelled in the light, his longing to be able to join them palatable. Thus his rather intense dislike for mornings.

Well, that and he tended to look like crap when he had just woken up. It was an unspoken rule among his crew that he was not to be disturbed in his quarters until noon or if he exited them. Mornings were off limits and when that rule was broken, people tended to get shot, no questions asked.

That morning was no different.

He was curled in the thick skins on his small bed (though it _was_ the biggest one of the boat), dark hair tangled around his face, trying to unsuccessfully evade a stubborn chink of golden light that insisted on falling into his eyes. It had woken him from a dream where he had heard the familiar crowing of a proud boy that had left this world years ago, leaving him feeling even more irritable than usual. The echoes of the sound still rattled around in his skull and the beginning of a blinding headache was already working its way through his brain, licking angrily at his temples. He groaned as he pulled one of the blankets over his head, willing the day away. It was too much to hope that no one would notice if he didn't get up that day. He still had a ship to run.

This was his train of thought as sleep was beginning to steal back over him, making his lids heavy when his door was unceremoniously thrown open, the resulting bang as the wooden surface ricocheted off the wall startling him. The furious throb in his head scattered his thoughts for a moment as he sat up, thinking, _who's about to die now?_ But it was only his first mate, as bald and as slimy as ever, sweating and generally looking nervous as he wrung his hat in his hands.

"What the fuck do you want?" his voice sounded like gravel and the older man winced, sweat dripping off his shiny head and over the round contours of his face. Smee would never presume to bother him unless it was important but it was entertaining to watch the man squirm. Forcing the cobwebs from his brain, the Captain pushed the dark curls from his eyes and pinned his first mate with an icy black glare.

"S-sorry t-t-to wake you, C-captain," he stammered, eyeing the dark haired man still tangled with his sheets and stabbing him with his eyes, "I-I know n-no one is s-s-supposed to—" Fury flared hot and Hook snarled dangerously, launching a glass on the table next to his bunk across the room, narrowly missing the older man's head, a rain of glass littering the worn floor boards.

"GET ON WITH IT!!" now Smee was cowering near the floor, hands over his head and he heard a dry swallow, his head pounding from the effort of raising his voice.

"Y-yes…s-sir, I…we…" for a moment the Captain was sure the first mate was actually going to choke on his words, the ugly, terrified twist of his face almost comical and he watched in fascination as Smee tried to unearth the words that had him braving his Captain's considerable wrath. He was just beginning to wonder if he was going to have to send another breakable reminder across the room when the man threw himself onto his knees, hiding his face as hurried words spewed from his mouth, "I'm sorry but you told us to tell you if Peter Pan ever came back and he has, this morning and…" the world froze when those words struck the dark haired man, like a slap across the face, the stumbling voice continuing with its verbal hemorrhage becoming nothing more than a nonsensical buzz, meaningless. He sat, still half tangled with his sheets, hair falling into his face, wearing nothing but a loose shirt and a pair of breeches, cool dark eyes wide as his face went slack with shock. That name, the name he had forbidden for seven years, had whipped through him, stalling the steady beat of his heart and making his blood pound angrily. Back. That's what Smee had said…_to tell you if he ever came back_.

So then, the crowing in his dreams had not been imagined. Slowly, trying to drag his scattered consciousness into some semblance of order, he blinked when he realized Smee had gotten to his feet and was peering worriedly into his Captain's blank face. There were words, yes, a question that he needed to ask, some way he needed to react, if only he could find those words.

"Did…did you say…Peter Pan?" his voice had dropped an octave, thick, as that name always tasted so sweet on his tongue, the reason why he refused to speak it. Shifty eyes darted around the room, wondering how he was going to explode and the first mate was back to twisting that hat in his chubby fingers, licking his lips that were no doubt bone dry from fear.

"Yes, Captain," it wavered, as if Smee wanted to be anywhere but there and Hook could feel the pressure building in his chest, the anger that he used to mask everything else when speaking of the boy that had been the bane of his existence for much longer than should have been possible.

"…Back…" that was all he could manage because that aching anger was spiking to dangerous levels, something he had not felt in the entire seven years that the flying little pest had been gone. His first mate cringed, seeing the icy gaze filling with a fire he (and his head) was very familiar with.

"Y-yes…Captain…" one second then another and in the complete silence, he felt something click into place, the trigger for the detonation.

"_**WHHHHAAAATTTT!?!?!**_"His roar rocked the boat, making the water it rested peacefully on ripple anxiously, as if eager to get away from the burning source of rage. Every single soul upon the vessel, already braced, for the whispers of Peter Pan's name had been flowing through their ranks all morning, froze, every gaze turning towards the door of the Captain's private quarters. He could feel it as the red settled over his vision, his whole crew holding their breath as he threw himself from his bed. The door splintered when he slammed it open, nearly able to smell the fear that was rolling off the men of his crew. If only he knew what he looked like, his normally trim appearance wild, onyx eyes blazing behind the fall of dark curls, shirt hanging off one shoulder and caught in the wide belt he had never taken off. He looked every inch the fearsome pirate that he was. But he wasn't concerned with them. His eyes were on the sky, searching, wanting the proof. His bare feet slapped against the damp boards as he strode to the bow of the ship, snatching a monocular from a table that held useless charts of the stars.

"Where is he?" he snarled at one of the crew that had been unfortunate enough to be standing close enough so that he might address him and the man cringed as he answered. Because he wasn't wearing the hook, he was forced to balance the glass against his forearm, his lack of a second hand now more of a nuisance than anything else.

"S-sir, he was just off the starboard side, thirty degrees north," a muted voice whispered and the dark haired man swung the glass in that direction, trying not to notice how much the pounding of his heart was more like nerves, not anger. At first he saw nothing but rounded views of a jeweled colored sky, frustration already thick in the back of his throat. But, no, the sky was not empty as he had almost breathlessly hoped it would be. There. There he was.

Peter Pan.

Hook didn't notice all the curious eyes on his back as he went very still, mouth pressed into a hard line, staring through the slight distortion of the glass at a face that was familiar yet not.

The boy was perched at the edge of one of the cliffs, feet dangling over the rocky sides, grinning for all he was worth as a little golden pixy circled his head. Hook could see the full lips moving as he spoke, addressing the faerie. He was relaxed, unaware, and the Captain studied him, pondering the changes. In the seven years that the boy had been gone, he had turned into a young man. Even sitting he looked quite tall, almost as tall as Hook himself and his chestnut hair had grown impossibly long, pulled back into a thick rope of shimmering waves. His eyes were still wide, features expressive but his face…well, Hook hated to admit this but he was _stunning_.

The dark haired Captain's movement was fast, snapping the looking glass closed so hard, the shaped glass at the end popped out of its setting, clattering to the ground and he grabbed the nearest crew member, a burly man, shorter than himself with weathered skin and a wild beard.

"When?" he growled, long fingers wrapped around the man's throat and he barely felt the hands clawing at his wrist in a vain attempt to get free. There was a shuffle behind him and Smee slithered up beside him, a faint sheen of perspiration still clinging to his skin.

"Almost two hours ago, Captain," he said, voice still trembling and Hook's grip tightened, red blazing behind his eyelids once again as he tossed the poor soul over the railing, gritting his teeth against the wail then resulting splash. He whirled on the first mate, eyes blazing, shoving his hair from his face as it was caught by an errant wind.

"AND JUST HOW LONG WERE YOU GOING TO WAIT BEFORE YOU TOLD ME???" he raged, making the whole crew take a shaky step back and Smee once again cower against the floor. There was dead silence, the response he was expecting and he straightened his shoulders with an effort, light fracturing as the pain in his head came roaring back. It was times like these he felt old, spread thin. He pinched the bridge of his nose, something he only did when he was truly upset before turning on his heel and stalking back to his quarters, offering nothing to his stunned crew.

The sharp bang of his unfortunate door cut off the light from the rest of the world and he stopped just on the other side, anger leaking away in the wake of something stronger, much like anguish. The fire had been doused and he peered at his single hand that was vibrating violently, the other just a stump, a reminder.

"Fuck," he whispered to his quiet room, pressing his fingers to his face as his back bumped against the door, sliding down it until he was on the floor, eyes sightless. He hated that it hurt, a familiar ache accompanying the one knocking anxiously against the inside of his skull. How could anyone that escaped this god forsaken place ever want to come back? Hook might have hated that Peter had left but it was nothing compared to what he felt about his return.

As he sat on the floor in the semi-darkness of his quarters, deaf to the mutterings and movement of his crew, he realized he was in deep shit.

* * *

The old hideout was the last place Peter went to in his quest to reacquaint himself with the island. Well, the second to last place but the other didn't merit mention.

He was sad to see, as he alighted gracefully under the cool, leafy trees where their old fort had once been the home of more than a dozen boys, that nature had made quick work in reclaiming what was hers, leaving only faint traces of evidence that anyone had lived there at all. The tunnels were still somewhat intact, and the underground rooms but there had been some cave-ins and he found that he missed the sky too much to stay there for very long. It was stifling and dark and dusty, holding too many memories that crowded against the back of his eyes and left him feeling a little bereft. He would not be sorry that he had returned but that also meant that he was once again rather lonely.

Tink had found him when he had been perched on the cliffs, admiring blue waters as he sat back in long grass, bursting with news of her brethren and how exited they were that the true monarch of Never Land had returned. That had stroked his ego a bit as he had always been partial to the faeries that lived in the wood and he had spent the rest of the day with them, letting them pamper him with food and a good time. They might be small but the faeries always did throw the best parties.

Yet with the onset of dusk, he had removed himself from the revelry, not signaling to his sidekick for she looked like she was the happiest she had been in a long time and a little tipsy besides. He just flew a path that had been ingrained in his head, never forgotten and that was how he found himself staring at a familiar sight, at a place he had called his safe haven for as long as he could remember. Perhaps it was better left in disrepair. Being there would just remind him of what he had left behind, leaving him torn once again. So he just found a wide branch of a big oak some ways off and leaned back against the trunk, watching as the sun finally slipped away, engulfed in shadows, the sounds of night beginning to fill the forest. It was soothing because it was familiar and he laid back, arms pillowing his head so he could strain to see the stars winking through the breaks in the leaves overhead.

He might have dozed, he wasn't sure but the steady, distant sound of drums brought him back to the surface, a steady thrum that would permeate the island for many hours. Dreams clung to his long eyelashes, leaving him slightly disoriented. Then he noticed he was alone, Tinkerbell still off somewhere else and just like that he was no longer tired.

Try as he might, the limb he was stretched out on had become too hard, the forest around him too different from the constant sound that came from living in a city, that he was completely alone here suddenly glaringly obvious. A restless buzz worked through him, wrapping itself around his bones until he couldn't stay still a moment longer. Peter threw himself into the night with a quiet curse, something he had never really got in the habit of, the air cool on his face. He liked that he could fly again, though, and the freedom that came with it.

For a moment he contemplated joining the Indians in their celebration, recalling blazing fires and lively dances. They would welcome him with open arms; they always used to and the temptation tugged at him, making him wonder if he still remembered the steps to the dances that he had known by heart seven years ago. If he would still remember what to do when that beat slipped under his skin and _commanded _that he move. Human habitation, a chance at company, maybe even a place to sleep for the night, as they had often been known to be offered a place by one of the fires for the duration of the night.

And yet, as appealing as that might have sounded, the brunette steered east instead, breath caught in the back of his throat. It was unintentional but when he realized it, he didn't change course. He just kept on, pushing through the thick, cool shadows of the night, feeling the island thrumming with life as if welcoming him home. Only with a smile did he acknowledge it, eyes trained on his destination.

Peter kept flying east, to a dark bay where a certain ship floated quietly upon the black waters.

* * *

The thing about Captain Hook was that he wasn't really evil.

He was misunderstood.

Of course, he never really did anything to dispel the negative image that had come to be associated with his name and probably tossing a member of his own crew over the side of the ship didn't really help. But in reality, he was just lost.

Literally.

They had actually stumbled into Never Land by accident in their flight from a government ship intent on bringing them to justice and had been stuck there ever since. And all he really wanted was to find his way back home.

That dream, though, he had given up on a long time ago, resigned to living forever in a place that never changed, resorting to petty conflicts just to pass the time, so as not to run mad. No one else remembered the before, what came previous to their life in this place but he did, glimpses, images, feelings. They couldn't understand why he would want to leave, for leaving meant aging, dying, the possibility of being crushed by reality. It didn't matter; he had searched, hunted for the means of being able to find a way back and nothing. Not even a glimmer. He was left with a rotting ship and a pathetic crew and no future.

Hook hadn't always been Captain. He had actually been the young first mate, agreeable, practical, a little brooding but not downright violent like he was now before the true Captain died in the rather bumpy voyage through the mists that had brought them, limping, to the shores of Never Land. Control of the vessel landed upon his shoulders. His life had stopped the day after he had turned thirty one, on a trip that was supposed to bring him enough success that he would be given a command of his own, a true Captain of a pirating vessel. Okay, so he was never really on the straight and narrow but he wasn't evil, either. He just wanted to find his way home.

This desire was what drew him to Peter in the first place; friend of the Faeries and the Merfolk, Lord of the Skies, Prince of Never Land. But more than that, the boy could fly.

At first he was only interested because it seemed flying might get him home. When he had pushed his way through the dense forest in search of the boy and the secret of soaring among the clouds, he had been sure that if he put his predicament to the kid reasonably, surely he would be more than willing to help. What he hadn't been counting on was Peter's pride and total mistrust for adults. Honestly, he was still a little surprised he managed to get back to the relative safety of his ship without being killed. Psychotic brat and his posse of no-good whelps. Hook had just wanted to ask him a question and had gotten attacked instead.

This was where their conflict started. Their conflict and his obsession.

He didn't actually pursue the conflict with Peter at first, having gritted his teeth and resolved himself that he didn't need to learn how to fly to get away, back to his home. But the boy, it seemed, had other ideas. The young brunette seemed to thrive on conflict, on adventure, him and his group of followers making the Captain and his crew's lives hell with their pranks and sneak attacks. Hook was unable to comprehend the hostility Peter seemed to hold for him. For their conflict was personal, of that he was sure. Perhaps it was because the older man had been presumptuous in asking for the secret of flight. Or maybe the boy just hated him. For what reason other than the afore mentioned one, he couldn't fathom but whatever it was, it started a petty war with him and the boy at the vortex.

When he started fighting back he couldn't remember. It was a long time ago. But by then he had already been captured by the wide, green eyes that laughed at him as Peter circled in the sky, the free spirit tugging at something within him that he couldn't identify. It was that spirit that reminded him of how trapped he was, how much he wished he could be like that. But while he coveted it, he wished to tame it too, make it bend to his own will. He had been disgusted by this revelation. Peter was just a boy, after all and he was a grown man. There was no perversion in the desire, nothing that would hurt the boy. Rather, he just wanted to touch upon that bright, shining soul, to make his own mark upon it. Even when the kid had claimed his left hand, he still wanted.

Though, at that point he couldn't let the kid get away with such an offence. It was right before Peter left that things had taken a turn for the worse and while Hook had planned to knock the kid out of the sky for a while, he didn't even get a chance before Peter just up and disappeared, flying away into the sunset. Without a backwards glance, not that Hook really expected one. After all, on the surface, they were enemies.

The light in his cabin was a warm golden glow that staved off the shadows as his cool gaze studied the lifeless metal that had replaced his hand. He wondered exactly when it had become something more then what was on the surface and the fact that there was more then surface confused him. Problem was, no matter how much he wanted to hate Peter, he found that he just couldn't. The only thing he hated was that this had become his life, day after day stuck on this boat with nothing to do but brood. Sun-darkened knuckles tightened on a crystal glass of warm red wine he had been nursing since he had finally managed to stop shaking and pick himself off the floor. The taste from the first sip was still bitter in the back of his mouth and he dropped his eyes finally, the tip of the metal hook gouging a sliver of wood from the arm of the chair he was sprawled in. It just wasn't _fair._

And now, on top of everything else, Peter had gone and grown up, coming back not just as carefree as usual but fucking _beautiful_ and the Captain cursed what was left of his blackened heart.

He couldn't lie to himself, though. The time in which the green eyed boy was gone, he had been bored out of his mind, restless, hating that he wished the kid would just hurry up and come back. He even missed their petty fights, the duels, the crash of their swords and wits in a game he never was able to wrap his head around. Yet, now that he was back, the dark haired man was even more confused. And he _loathed_ not being right in his own mind. More than that, he hated that he couldn't stop thinking about it, about the young man that he had seen through the monocular. Was this what Never Land had turned him into, he wondered; caught up on some boy while he rotted away, unable to age, to move, to do _anything_, slowly going crazy. He frowned deeply before knocking back the glass of the now tepid drink, swallowing the thick, bitter liquid.

Thus was the train of his thoughts when there was a soft scuffing noise outside one the windows of his quarters, catching him off guard as his eyes swung in the direction the sound had come from. He knew for a fact those windows dropped straight down into the water and the only way someone could gain access to one is to climb down from the top deck. Or fly. Feeling the distinct lack of need to react aggressively, he just set the glass in his single hand on the table by his elbow and reached into his belt, drawing out his pistol. He was even too lazy to lift it, resting his forearm against the chair and pointed it at the window the noise was coming from, waiting calmly.

A soft rustle, a scrape of something hard against wood paneling and he barely managed to keep his surprise hidden when the lock was forced up, allowing for the shutter to spring open, letting in a gust of warm night air, the lamps fluttering. There was a slit second of nothing in which his body tensed, before he was taken aback by what flew in to land on his window sill. Green eyes swung around the room, wary, guarded before they met his own and he had to physically steady himself with a slow breath through his nose.

For the person who was crouched in his window was none other than Peter Pan.

* * *

The night was cool, like every other night in Never Land, the shadows thick, dark. They couldn't hide the ship in the middle of the harbor, though, rocking gently with a soft breeze, it's sails furled, lights bobbing all along the deck and flickering in most of the windows. He had settled into some tall weeds at the edge of the water, watching shadows move along the length of the ship, voices carrying across the dark bay, rendered unintelligible with the distance.

At first he had berated himself for even coming here, letting his curiosity get the better of him but he reasoned, he wouldn't be who he was if he hadn't. Nothing had changed; nothing ever changed in Never Land. It didn't even look like the ship had sailed out of the harbor the whole time he had been gone, still in the same position it had been the last time he had seen it. And he found himself wondering about the man who commanded the vessel.

He wondered why it mattered to him if the Captain had even noticed if he was gone. Peter realized that they had never been on the best of terms and he was afraid that was his own fault. The conflict had started with his own misconception. See, the power of being the unofficial ruler over their little world had been a heady thing and whenever he had seen a play for that power, he had been sure to make sure his own claim was indisputable. That boat had appeared out of the mist many long years ago, bringing with it a man that looked born to rule, with cold eyes and a proud stature. He couldn't have such a person think they would be taking control of Never Land so he had done the first thing that had made sense to his young mind and attacked.

Now that he looked back on it, he realized how stupid the whole thing had been. In reality, it had been nothing more than a game. He wondered if the older man had realized it too for every time they had crossed blades, he had always been sure Hook was holding back.

And because he really wanted to know, he decided there was only one way to find out.

The guards posted on the boat had become lax in the years he had been away, playing cards and listening to the soft strumming of a guitar, their voices a low rumble, completely unaware he had glided just over the water, circling the ship once before adjusting his course and stopping before the lit windows at the stern. Once there, he paused, contemplating. This was probably not one of his better ideas, sneaking into enemy territory without a plan or someone who knew where he was. But that couldn't be helped now; he had already made up his mind.

He drew his short blade, working it through the seam of one of the windows, flipping the catch with a little effort, jumping back when the shutter sprang open. Golden light spilled into the dark night, spreading like a bright stain and his heart leapt into his throat, nerves rattling through him. He could still turn away but for some reason he felt compelled, drawn towards the open window until he was crouched on the sill, peering into the softly lit room.

He didn't see Hook at first amid the clutter, marveling at the riches piled and draped on all surfaces, tables, chairs, a bed, and even on the piano tucked away in a corner. It was busy and startling, making him realize he had never actually seen the older man's quarters before, though there was a good reason as the man was usually trying to kill him. His green eyes swept right over the man in the chair, looking like part of the glittering, rich disorder.

His breath caught when he finally spotted the man, bright gaze getting hung up on orbs of steely black, making him freeze.

The memories he had of Captain Hook didn't even come close to doing the real thing justice. He sat in a large chair, sprawling, long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back, one elbow taking some weight so one broad shoulder was cocked higher than the other. He was in a calm state of uncomfortably appealing disorder, hair spilling over his shoulders and across his face in dark, oiled cork screws, shadowing the steady, cool gaze that was still, expressionless, pinning Peter from under surprisingly long eyelashes. His nose was long and sharp, lips neatly formed and curled slightly at the corners, almost as if they had been made to smile, which was ridiculous because the brunette was sure the man had never smiled once in his entire existence. His jaw was sharp, chin strong and skin dyed a deep, dark shade of tan from the days he spent under the sun. The signature red jacket was missing, leaving him in just a flowing white shirt that was open at the collar, reveling sharp clavicle bones, and a pair of dark breeches. Dark leather boots adorned graceful calves, curling over at the tops and a wide belt was fastened around the narrow waist, jewels glittering on the thick buckle. Gold hoops peeked out from the dark hair, winking in the warm light, matching the curved piece of metal fastened to the stump of his left hand. The other hand rested easily on the arm of the chair, aiming a primed pistol right at his heart. What really alarmed Peter was the absolute calm the man was facing him with.

Peter swallowed thickly before sliding all the way into the room, bare feet touching upon the cool floor boards, wide gaze watching the Captain closely. Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say, allowing himself to be studied coolly by that icy stare. Perhaps he had been wrong in coming here but he had to know; he needed the true reason he had returned to be real, not some figment of his imagination. Taking in the man's appearance, he shuddered internally at the wave of heat that washed over him.

The silence was deafening, weighing heavily on his shoulders and he shifted uncomfortably before he couldn't take it anymore. Peter spread his arms and smiled cheekily, returning the older man's stare defiantly.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked, soft baritone snagging on the clutter of the room, muted, the teasing note less sharp than it might have been. Those dark eyes flickered, an emotion whipping through their depths too fast for him to identify before it sank below the cool, hard encasing ice. They narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what Peter was up to.

"Like what?" the deep bass rumbled through the room, as sharp as the man himself, belying his impatience. It was a little more than passing strange to be standing calmly in front of this man, talking like the past between them had never happened. To hide the hitch at the velvety sound of the Captain's voice he let his grin grow wider.

"Well, I'm back! Doesn't that merit something?" his voice was too bright in the cabin, too obnoxious and reminiscent of the boy he used to be but he was pleased to see the curved lips twitch ever so slightly, though in annoyance or in a suppressed smile, he wasn't sure. Whatever it was, he was happy for a reaction. Again those cold eyes flashed.

"No, it doesn't," this time the older man's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion and he wondered what was behind it. Very aware of the gun still trained on him, he sailed to a chair a few feet away and perched on one of the arms, drawing one knee to his chest.

"Hmm, I guess not," he gave another small smile as he studied the dark haired man, wondering if Hook was really planning on shooting him, "You know, you can put your gun away. I'm not going to do anything," he could tell the laughter in his voice grated on the Captain who hadn't moved a muscle since he had flown in through the window. Those lips curled in a sarcastic, half smile, the expression twisting the sharp features slightly.

"Forgive me if I can't bring myself to trust you. You did cut off my hand and feed it to a crocodile," the golden hook glittered as if reminding the younger man that it was there and he tossed a soft laugh to the ceiling, missing how those dark eyes narrowed further, watching the action carefully.

"You're still mad about that?" he snickered, tilting his head and pressing it against his knee. The man snarled softly, eyebrows drawing down in a flash of temper, the expression familiar. Hook shifted then, sitting a little straighter and pinning Peter with a hard stare, one he tried not to squirm under as the intensity nearly struck him breathless.

"Why the fuck are you here?" the man demanded, eyes flaring hotly and for a moment Peter was quiet, watching the older man fume quietly. It was strange how being in close proximity with this person was feeding a fire of longing that burned in his chest, making the familiar feeling almost alien, evading his attempts to understand it. It was bad that he liked the way this man talked, the way his dark eyes blazed when he was angry, the way he remained cold despite the anger he could see brimming over on his sharp features. One day since he had returned and he was already wondering if it had been a good idea. Feeling such things for a person who had been your mortal enemy was certainly not a good thing. Right? Finally, gathering wits that had dangerously scattered as he stared at the older man, he lifted his head from his knee, shrugging but keeping his face blank.

"Just thought I'd come give you my regards," now his voice was bland, watching the Captain grind his teeth in irritation at such a noncommittal, flippant answer. The dark gaze pulled at him, trying to incinerate him and he had to carefully fortify his defenses lest the man see how shaken he really was. There was a sharply inhaled breath, the older man's nostrils going white around the edges as he tried to rein in his temper.

"That's it? That's the only reason why you broke in here? To give me your regards?" there was an incredulous tone in that deep voice and it was his turn to frown, resting his chin against his knee now as he contemplated the man before him.

"Well, it wasn't like you were busy, or anything," he said lazily, noting how the hook gouged a nice little sliver out of the wood of the chair's arm, dark eyes blazing wildly before the older man settled again, glaring at Peter as if he was trying to pick him apart so he could figure him out.

"Indeed," was all he said, sliding back down in his chair as he contemplated the younger man, expression unreadable. Peter unfolded himself from the chair, standing at his full height and watching the dark eyes raise to stay focused on his face. The gun never wavered, remaining pointed at him, though now it was more of a statement than a safety precaution. The brunette fingered a fall of lace draped over the chair he had been sitting on, the texture rough and a little brittle under his finger tips.

"I actually came to ask for a duel," he said, catching the flicker of interest, smiling again as Hook tilted his head back slightly, looking a little amused. One dark eyebrow arched high, slipping out of sight behind an errant curl and Peter's concentration splintered a bit when he wondered how threading his fingers through those curls would feel.

"A duel…" again with the flat tone and he was dragged back from the dark shores created by perilous thoughts. His own wide green gaze met dark obsidian and he grinned again, telling his heart to stop being stupid and trying to run away up the back of his throat every time the dark haired man spoke.

"Yes. Tomorrow at noon, on the shore," it was a given the man would accept but he held his breath anyway. Again that dark eyebrow quirked, the expression making his mouth go just a little dry, leaving him suddenly longing for the night sky that would dispel the surging desire licking erratically under his skin. There was no answering smile but the dark eyes narrowed again, softly, as if the man wanted to mirror Peter's expression.

"And what does the winner receive?" Hook asked, intrigued and this time the younger man shook his ginger head, long hair brushing against the backs of his elbows.

"It's just for fun. No stakes," his answer sounded more confident than he felt, hating the suffocating feeling stealing over him, like someone was sitting on his chest, his reaction to being close to this man again startling and confusing. The lack of hate between them was giving birth to other things, desire cutting, bright and it was like he was meeting the older man all over again. This was their very first conversation, though in a way it was because they had never really traded anything but insults and blows before. He had never realized just how sharp that gaze could be or the subtle differences as the sharp features flowed from one expression to the next. It was baffling, the intensity of his reaction shocking him. Now the cool eyes were regarding him as he tried not to fidget, longing to be free of the sudden vise constricting his chest cavity. This was getting perilous and he wanted nothing more than to escape through the open window, be embraced by the open skies in hopes they might ease the ache.

"Very well, then. Noon it is," and Peter was terrified by how his heart leapt at those words. He nodded once, full lips curling into a smile and he bounded for the window. Peter was just about to leap into the shadows once again when he made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder, the need to look at Hook once more before he turned away too strong to ignore. The fire he found in that dark gaze caught him by surprise, searing through him to his very bones, mirroring the one dancing along his veins and nerves, tingling, blindingly hot. Then he was free, soaring away and he was finally able to breathe again.

He understood then as the silvery light from the distant stars carded through his bright hair, there was still a game to be played but the rules had changed and he was afraid to contemplate what would happen when the stakes were claimed.

* * *

The pistol clattered to the floor a moment after he was left alone in the room, breath expelled sharply in the heavy silence.

The moment his dark gaze had met the bright, glittering green of the younger man's eyes, he knew this game they had been playing for many long, taxing years he just lost. Peter was still himself but he wasn't. He was beautiful, witty, more contained, transformed into something bright, untouchable and it just made Hook want him even more. That admission was not as shocking as it might have been but a frown still marred his forehead as he absently gouged little pieces of wood from the arm of the chair with his hook. Before he had wanted the boy's spirit. Now he wanted the boy himself.

For a long time he stared at the open window where Peter had disappeared, claimed by the night before he dropped his head back against the chair, breathing a shaky, disbelieving laugh at the ceiling.

Oh, yeah. He was defiantly screwed.

_**To be continued...**_

_**psssst...I LOVE reviews *puppy eyes*  
**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: Hurray for long lemons!! Yes, this _is_ a lemon (where did you think this was going?) and yes, it is _veeerry _long. Sorry about that but, I dunno, I read it over after writing it and I liked it so...anyway, this is the last chapter but my wonderful beta requested an epilogue. What do you guys think? Should I write a little more? it won't be nearly this long but it will give our hero's some more time in the lime light *grins and winks*. Anyway, the more reveiws, the more I'll consider it. Just think on it as your reading. Thanks! Hope everyone enjoys!!**

**Always and Forever…**

Somehow, Tinkerbell had managed to find him during the night were he had curled into the parted roots of an old tree, her familiar presence pressed into his shoulder as he blinked awake. There was a stiff pain in his neck when he tried to turn his head to the right, making him wince and he just sat there, blinking in the bright morning light trickling down onto him from between the leaves above his head. The Island was always very tranquil in the mornings, just after the sun had raised its sleepy head and shook its mane of bright rays out to cover the little world. It was this time that he had always liked best, as they felt like a beginning, the start of something new. Every day was different, offering possibilities, new adventures. He admired how a half furled leaf on a plant near his face filtered the bright light, making it look fragile as he pondered the events of the night before. Today's adventure certainly promised to be different.

It was something he and the Captain had done since the man had arrived in Never Land; challenging each other. But that was then, when everything was simple, with a solid clear line that directed his actions. Whatever Peter had done when he was younger was never complicated and usually just in pursuit of keeping himself amused. As much as he had disliked Hook, their sword play and constant battles had merely been a game. Sure, he had been convinced the man was evil, was his arch-enemy. Yet the only duel that had turned serious was when the brunette had sliced the older man's hand off and jokingly fed it to one of the crocodiles. Not one of his finest moments he was willing to admit and it seemed Hook was still bitter about it. But he had never understood the implications, or consequences of the things he used to do.

There was none of that now, though. Their conversation last night had shown Peter that there was something more than mock battles and a struggle for power. What he couldn't figure out was exactly how it had changed. There had been so much that he had not understood before he had gone to London, before he had grown up. Where he had seen a game before he now saw something else, something deeper that tugged at him, leaving him feeling strange, like there was something he wanted but couldn't figure out what it was.

Tinkerbell didn't mention the fact that he had left the party early the night before but then again, she was so used to his sneaking off without her, she probably didn't notice anything had been amiss. It seemed her time in London had forced her to grow up as well, though in less obvious ways. As they greeted each other and agreed to go find something for breakfast, he contemplated the little pixy that had accompanied him for a long as he could remember. Tinkerbell had always been full of mischief and curiosity, usually the one cheering him on as he got himself into trouble. She would cry if they were ever separated for a long time, unless she was mad at him and had flown off to cool down. But she had forever been loyal, unwavering in her devotion. Like a little glowing piece of his own soul, he knew she understood him better than anyone could and wondered if she knew, on some degree, the real reason why they had come back, besides the fact that he had missed his home. As they sat perched in a bush that was laden with the most delicious blackberries, he paused, reaching out a stained fingertip to gently stroke thin, delicate wing. Tiny blue eyes lifted to his face where a warm smile was burning in his green eyes.

"I love you, Tink," he said gently, knowing he didn't say it often enough and also aware that she wouldn't say it first. The little pixy practically exploded with light, a little shower of golden dust powdering the leaves below the spot where she sat as those lacy wings suddenly beat a billion miles a minute. She buzzed around his head with an excited, shrill laugh, tugging affectionately at random strands of his hair.

"I love you too, Peter," she sighed in his ear before attempting to wrap her miniscule arms around the column of his neck. He breathed a soft laugh, heart feeling full. They sat quietly for a few more moments, the heavy, tart taste of the dark berries still thick on his tongue before he spoke up again.

"Hey, Tink," there was a hum in his ear and he swallowed, wondering how he could possibly put into words what he needed to tell her. She would understand, he knew. There had been times back in London when he had been with Michael and he was sure she had been watching. After all, her curiosity was a big as his own, "I didn't…we…" he paused again, biting his lip, feeling her waiting intently, "Do you know the other reason why I wanted to come back?" he finally asked and there was a huff in his ear followed by the sound of her taking to the air so she could glare sternly into his face, hands on her hips.

"Please, Peter. I probably knew before you did," at this his eyebrows shot up and he stared speechlessly at her, at a loss. She giggled at his expression before the blue eyes switched to concern, "As long as you know what you're doing," her tone promised violence if so much as one hair on his head was injured and he had no doubt it was not his own hide the retribution would be carried out on. The brunette almost felt bad for Hook. Finally he managed a smile, aware of the heated blush working its way across his features.

"I know what I'm doing," he answered softly and was rewarded with a bright grin.

"Good. Then I have something to give you," surprised, he allowed himself to be guided back the way they had come, deep into the forest where even the shadows belonged to the faeries, to a small glade that was eerily still and silent. The sun didn't reach here, the leaves above his head a thick weave that blocked all the light but it was as if every surface had been infused with glowing dust, a faint, golden luminosity lending his eyes an aid with which to see. In the middle of the clearing, half hidden by green vines and bright flowers was a sword. The blade was buried in the soft, lush moss, steel highlighted gently by the soft light. He breathed a small gasp, stepping up to it and running a finger over parts of the golden hilt that was not covered by greenery.

"Oh, Tink…" even whispered, his voice seemed out of place and he looked at his friend bobbing in the air beside him, a happy grin plastered all over her sharp features.

"We wanted to give this to you, as our gratitude and thanks that you have returned home. After all, you are the true King here," her words made his heart glow steadily, mimicking the light illuminating the small glade and he cleared away some of the plants around the weapon. There was an amused buzz somewhere to his left as he marveled over the sword and nearly fell over with the words Tinkerbell spoke next, "And it is customary among my people to give a gift to their ruler upon taking a consort," Peter sputtered in disbelief, face blazing in embarrassment as he whirled to eye the little blond faerie who was currently cackling away just out of arm's reach.

"C-consort!? What are you talking about?" and his face burned hotter when she gasped her reply through her giggles.

"W-well, isn't t-t-that what you came b-back for? To make C-captain Hook your cons-s-s-sort?" the quiet of the forest was broken by his mortified cry.

"TINKERBELL!!!"

* * *

Of course the sun was shining ferociously as the little gunny nosed out on the golden sand, clear water lapping at the wooden sides.

The dark haired Captain had left the rest of his crew back on the ship, ignoring their curious glances and was well aware of how they had crowded at the starboard rail to watch him. Like a bunch of gossip hungry nags, they wanted to see what their superior's sudden odd behavior was all about and were currently pushing and quarreling over a view by the rail. He bit the inside of his cheek as he stepped into the soft, wet sand, boots sinking into the edges of the foam that washed against the shore as he dragged the small boat onto the sand. It wasn't like he really minded having an entire crew as an audience as it wasn't like they could really see or hear what was going on. It was the principle of the matter; he should be able to leave the ship without having a bunch of smelly men he spent every day with in close quarters hounding after him because they didn't have anything better to do. The fact that Peter Pan had returned the day before and now Hook was making his way to shore, something he rarely did, was no doubt the subject of gossip that would be hanging around the ship like the smell of two week old fish.

Dark eyes swept the narrow line of the shore as he straightened and he unconsciously twirled the golden hook donning his right hand in its setting, telling himself that he wasn't getting a thrill out of seeing the green eyed boy again. Or, young man, rather. But he couldn't lie to himself and even now, the dreams that had kept him awake nearly the entirety of the night still floated across the back of his vision, leaving him feeling distracted and a little shaky. He didn't want to think about why Peter had requested this duel but he couldn't fight the surge of bitter hope that just maybe he wasn't the only one drawn to this rather unhealthy obsession. It didn't matter because he was sure nothing would change. The visit last night was just a precursor, a warning that things would pick up, just as they had left off. But it hadn't felt the same as it used to and those green eyes had nearly undone him, scraping away at his sanity because it was getting difficult to hide the rage of desire.

Of course it mattered. What the younger man thought of him mattered a great deal and it infuriated him. Even so, he had done his best to look every inch the imposing captain that he was. He had even impressed himself. The dark, oiled curls had been pulled back into a low tail, brushing the back of the high collar on his long, red jacket. Jewels adorned his fingers, neck, ear, belt and even the nostril of his nose, the tiny stud glittering softly. His boots were of the finest leather, exaggerating the line of his calf and turned down at the tops. The leather holster for his pistol forced the loose shirt to cling to his chest and the wide belt around his waist to which his sword had been fastened highlighted strong, lean thighs. All in all, he was no doubt the picture of authority. And yet he found himself twiddling with the hilt of the sword, eyes scanning the tops of the trees. How sad he had become that his existence had become this, reduced to petty duels and a raging desire for a boy he had not seen in seven years.

The rumbling shout rolling softly across the water alerted him to Peter's arrival and he turned in time to see the chestnut haired boy alight gracefully upon the sand, his ever-present pixy buzzing anxiously around his head. Hook blinked.

Oh, good Lord.

A wave of heat surged through him as he stared at the younger man, hating the weak reaction to the brunette's appearance. It looked as if he had been spending time with the faeries as his long, shining hair was pulled back into a loose, snaking braid held together with colored ribbon and chains of white and blue flowers. The only piece of clothing he wore was a pair of black trousers, cut and ragged just below the knee, showing off slender ankles and bare feet. His lean torso was bare, the expanse of golden skin smooth and unbearably tempting. The only other thing he wore was a black scrap of material circling a slim bicep, though what its purpose was he could only speculate. If he wasn't too busy staring he would have realized that Peter was eyeing him the exact same way; like the duel they wanted had nothing to do with the blades strapped to their hips and everything to do with the heat strumming through their bodies that made knees weak and chests tighten. Somehow, he managed to find his voice first.

"I see you have accommodated a new sword," his voice was neutral as he addressed the unfamiliar blade slung through the slim belt holding the dark pants up around the slender hips and he watched the green eyes flicker in acknowledgement, a long finger stroking the hilt. Before Peter could say anything, though, his little faerie said something in his ear that had him blushing madly, the sight of it making the dark haired Captain's breath hitch. How could something like that be so attractive?

"Y-yes, it's new. It was a gift from the faeries," and he detected a note for pride in the boy's voice. As well there should be as the weapon was fine, with a long, slender blade made for fast lunges and swift blocks, the hilt glittering gold in the bright sunlight. Hook just nodded and stroked his own sword. The blade had been with him since he had come here and he took good care of it as it had saved him from many a tight spot before.

"Would you like to begin?" his voice was deep, rumbling through the salty air and he watched the younger man's shoulders square in determination, bright eyes taking on a quality of steel.

"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" he said brashly and the Captain found himself biting back a smile._ Is it?_ He wondered. Well, at least some things didn't change and he hated that he was glad for it. Instead he drew his blade, the clear sound of ringing metal filling the air and drawing another rumbling roar from his boat. Peter grinned broadly, no doubt loving the fact that they had an audience, and unsheathed his own sword, the blade gleaming brightly in the golden light.

"Rules?" Hook asked and was rewarded with the momentary deepening of emerald colored eyes as they appraised him from where the young man stood a few feet away. The full lips twitched and the pixy twittered shrilly above the chestnut head.

"How kind of you to mention it," here he jerked with annoyance but kept his stance relaxed. He was unwilling to let this become a free for all, as these things had a tendency to do because that was not what this was about. At least, that was what he had been led to believe. He bared his teeth in an expression that was less of a smile and more like a threatening snarl.

"I would not want to lose my other hand because no boundaries had been set," the tone he used was a bit bland but he was aware of the bitter under current that cut through the crisp, clear air and punctuated by a particularly big wave as it crashed against the shore behind him. Peter laughed, the bright sound doing something strange to his already battered consciousness, a petal tumbling from a flower in his chestnut locks and snagging on the smooth, tan skin.

"Of course. Then we go to first blood, no damaging or fatal injuries," he nodded, bringing up his blade and was distracted again when the pixy whispered something to Peter again, ushering the return of that lovely blush, "Shut up, Tinkerbell!" the boy hissed as he dropped into a ready stance, green eyes holding something close to his own burning passion as their gazes met. Unable to quell the surge of heat that acknowledged the brunette's expression, Hook leaped forward, blade gleaming in the light, catching Peter by surprise.

So it started.

And as they cross blades again for the first time in seven years, everything else faded to the background; his crew, the faerie, their troubled past. Everything was rendered insignificant because it was just him and Peter and the breathtaking heat for a new game had been started and this time, there was so much more to lose.

* * *

A quick pry to the left and a graceful spin gave Peter a slight opening before Hook was coming at him again, dark eyes bright and dangerous. They glittered with a bright determination; the older man wasn't holding anything back. Another block and he used his momentum from his spin to lunge underneath the other's wide sweep of his sword, almost clipping the hem of the long, red jacket. Now it was Hook's turn to wheel away. Adrenaline ran thick through the brunette's veins as they traded a few sharp jabs, elation acting like a narcotic and making him feel giddy.

It was strange that no matter how many times they had done this type of thing before, Peter had never been aware of the dark haired Captain as he was now. Before it had been about finding the openings and exploiting them. Now…

Well, now, it was something entirely different.

As he watched the other man's body language to gauge the next attack, he could also see the powerful play of strength under the folds of thick clothing. He never realized how the long thighs muscles bunched like that even though he had that particular lunge before many times. Or how the strong torso twisted to avoid one of his own strikes. Again something he had seen numerous times and yet, he had never really _looked_, the movement graceful and breathtaking, like a panther stalking its prey. Taking in the heated look in those dark eyes, he wasn't entirely sure he _wasn't_ prey. If a single gaze could sink under his skin like some physical touch then he was burning, disintegrating into nothing but ash.

What happened next jarred him so bad, he would have dropped his sword had it not been caught up with the dark haired Captain's. Somehow he had ended up stepping too close into one of Hook's lunges, their blades sliding together with a screeching wail, sending up a shock of sparks. There was a split second before he realized the joining of the blade hilts had brought their bodies flush against one another, thighs aligned, hips locked, warm breath ghosting over his face that reminded him of cool night skies. Startled, green eyes jerked to meet black and what he found in those bottomless depths shook him to his very core. He saw confusion and doubt but most of all, he saw pure, unbridled want. And while it scared him silly, he felt a mirroring emotion welling up inside of him until he was breathless and knew nothing but the older man; his body against Peter's, his eyes glittering in the bright sunlight, and it was everything he wanted.

When the Captain pulled away, he left the younger man momentarily off balance and Peter stumbled a step or two in the sand before he regained his bearings. Startled and disappointed at the sudden loss, he glanced up to see the older man turning his back, sheathing his sword with a smooth motion. The dark curls shone starkly against the bright red material of the long jacket that swayed against strong calves as he walked away, back towards the boat he had taken in to shore.

"Hey! Where are you going? We weren't finished!" his voice sounded put off and more upset than disappointed, earning himself a sharp glance over one broad shoulder as the older man looked at him. There was a deep silence only punctuated by the soft hiss of salty water on golden sand, the hard gaze boring into him. Then the dark haired man turned away again, bending to push the little scuttle boat out into the clear waves.

"I changed my mind. I have grown bored of this game," and just like that Hook gave the boat a hard shove and leaped into it gracefully, moving away from shore and from the place where Peter stood, dumfounded with something similar to hurt crushing his chest. The tip of his new sword dragged in the sand as he watched the boat slowly pull away, wondering if he tried to fly would he could even lift himself into the air. Just when he thought about turning away, snarling at himself for letting himself get his hopes up, for seeing things that were clearly not there, a shout came to him across the water. "Find another challenge for me, Pan and perhaps I'll take you up on it," dark curls shaded darker eyes, the fair wind tugging at the small boat and just like that the feeling of elation was back, that bright hope retuning like a rekindled fire. Perhaps he had not been seeing things after all.

With Tinkerbell twittering in his ear, he leaped into the air, not bothering to kill the grin plastered all over his sharp features and threw him head back to crow at the sun. The sound echoed and for a moment, he was sure the sun had crowed back.

If he didn't know better, he would have said that Hook had just given him an invitation.

Now all he need do was answer it.

* * *

As the boat cut through the bright, glittering water, the dark haired Captain breathed a small sigh. He had been sure for a moment as his body had pressed into the brunette's if he would be able to bite back the urge to throw the kid to the sand right there and sate the steady burn of his desire. It was true, he had grown bored, but not of Peter; never that. Instead he had grown tired of the complicated dance the game between them had become. Hopefully, the boy would take his parting words for what they were.

And when the cry of the deep voice broke across the bay, he smiled to himself, knowing the crow to be an answer to his own words. It seemed he would not be disappointed with the challenge when the younger man presented it to him.

That night, the bright sound of Peter's voice spiraling to the sky stayed with him in his dreams which suddenly didn't seem so dark anymore.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Tinkerbell. Not that again," Peter's voice echoed through the overgrown hide-out as he cleared the encroaching plants from the place he used to call home. The space was already beginning to look like it used to, nestled comfortably amid the large roots of several giant trees. The wide open space where the boys used to sleep he had already pretty much cleared away and was working on his own personal room. Somehow, some of the items they left behind were still intact; clay bowls and make shift weapons and he smiled to see them. And the whole time he worked, swamped with sweet, distant memories, the little, golden pixy buzzed annoyingly around his head.

"But, Peter, you would be given everything you need! A place to sleep, food, company. You'll be lonely here by yourself!" It seemed the faeries had offered to give him a place to live in their domain, at least until he could build another crew, assuming things would be going back to the way they used to be. And while that did sound nice, he gritted his teeth against the thought of having everything just pick up where they had left off. Another group would not replace the brothers he had left behind and he was no longer a child. He was past playing.

"I won't be lonely, Tink," he said soothingly as he straightened, wiping sweat from his forehead and leaving a long smudge of dirt, "I have you, don't I?" the little pixy twittered, always one prone to flattery, tugging affectionately on several strands of his long hair that had freed themselves from the confines of the braid.

"Forever. But even I know that's not enough anymore," the mournful tone of her voice nearly broke his heart and he snatched her out of the air, mindful of her wings and ignoring her yelp of surprise to cuddle her against his cheek, the warmth of her magic soft against his skin.

"You'll always be enough for me," he said with a grin as she yelled, struggling to get free, which he allowed a moment later, getting a sharp kick to the nose that felt like a swift flick before she fluttered out of arms reach, scowling at him as he laughed.

"I'm serious, Peter!" she shrilled, wings beating quickly in agitation. The brunette softened his smile, "I've seen the way you look at that Captain of yours. That's something I could never give you," Just like that he was blushing madly, heat whipping through his body like a tidal wave, making him weak. Of course she had seen. She already knew something was up with that consort remark earlier that day and she was far from stupid. He wondered, though, if she wished she could be that for him. Managing to tame his flush, he glanced up at her again as he pulled away some more underbrush, a hidden thorn snagging at his wrist.

"Are you jealous of him?" he asked quietly and he saw her freeze with surprise. The look of her face was something of confusion, like she had never thought about it before.

"No," she said slowly, fluttering down to land on his shoulder and he stilled his movements so as not to dislodge her, "No, I'm not jealous of him. I just don't want to lose you and I can't bare it if you get hurt. He's not the…kindest of humans…" well, she had him there. Hook certainly couldn't be described as kind. But that was not what Peter wanted anyway. He just tried to smile reassuringly, lump stuck in his throat at her words.

"You won't lose me, Tink and I know Hook his not a nice person but…" and he shrugged, blushing again as he thought of why he _was_ so attracted to the older man. Tinkerbell seemed to catch the drift of his thoughts and she was cackling again as she whipped around the leafy hideout, the glow of her wings brushing along the undersides of dark leaves.

"Oh ho! I know why! Yes, I must admit myself that even for a human he's strikes quite an imposing figure," she was saying as she flew in glittering circles and Peter paused once again to watch her warily, wondering just what would be coming out of her mouth next, "The way he looks in that jacket and his long legs just accentuated by those boots, all long and muscular…Don't you agree, Peter?" he growled a warning, beginning to time his jump so that if he were to leap in the air, he would be able to catch the little pixy, even though there was no one else to hear her, "Although, he's probably been chaste for a very long time. It makes you wonder if he's any good in—" and for the second time that day, Peter's scandalized shout echoed through the forest in acknowledgement of something his small, pixy friend had said.

"TINK!! SHUT UP!!!"

Funny thing is, that was exactly what he had been thinking…

* * *

Honestly, Hook hadn't been expecting to see Peter again for at least a couple days. After all, the kind of thing he had offered, if the boy had taken it correctly, was not a thing to be taken lightly. And while the wait would be excruciating, he _would_ wait. It had been this long, after all, what was a couple more days? Of course, now that he had actually _seen_ the younger man, it would certainly make things harder.

What he was not expecting was an answer the very next day.

The sun had already begun to dip towards the west, the color of its light deepening to a rich orange and he was on the aft deck, pondering a set of old charts. A long time ago, when things like that still mattered, he had begun drawing up a new set of charts to match the stars in this world they had found themselves trapped in, hoping to find a way out amid the seas and it was these he was studying, leaning over a rickety table that was barely holding the weight of his elbows. The mutterings of his crew had followed him around all day and he knew what was bothering them. From their point of view, they had seen him in a position of power during his duel with Peter and he had just walked away, like he had given up. In their minds, it was the same as losing.

Well, he thought to himself a bit caustically, it wouldn't be the first time they had seen him lose to the younger man before. But he had never just walked away like that. Dark eyes glowered moodily down at dark lines drafted upon dark pieces of weathered parchment, his chin caught in the palm of his only hand as his hook followed idly a lines of stars upon the map, the thick weight of waiting tasting like two-day old flounder in the back of his throat.

Suddenly there was a commotion among the men dawdling at the other end of the main deck where they had been watching him discreetly and wondering behind their hands. Curious, he lifted his head to find just about every head craned at the sky, all of them eerily quiet as if they weren't quite sure how they should be reacting. Well, that was odd. He was just about to lift his own eyes heavenward when there was a whistle from behind him, a loud voice shattering the quiet that had been hanging over the ship.

"Oi! Hook!" the sound of his name had him whipping about, the familiar voice making his breath catch. So much for waiting a few days. Peter was hovering in the air by the main sail, a small bow knocked and drawn in his hands, the arrow pointed straight at the Captain's heart. Dark eyes widened as the younger man grinned at him, the expression feral as the wind caught long, chestnut hair, "CATCH!!" and he loosed the arrow, the shaft whizzing through the air straight at the older man. How he managed to duck in time, even he wasn't sure and he could feel the air shift over the top of his head as the head of the arrow buried itself into the wood behind the dark haired Captain. He came up snarling, Peter already turning to fly away.

"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU DAMN FUCKING BRAT!!!" his voice nearly had the boat rocking with the force of the sound, rage bright behind his eyes, so sharp he could almost taste it. There was a hearty growling of his crew, as if they were somehow comforted by their Captain's anger and he yanked the arrow free, glaring at it as if he could set it on fire just form looking at it. That was when he noticed the paper curled tightly around the shaft, tied neatly with one of the ribbons the boy had been wearing in his hair the day before. All at once the anger was gone replaced with a desperate need to see what the little note contained. But Smee was sidling up to him, beady eyes full of pretend concern and the opportunity for more gossip, so Hook curled his fist around the arrow so as he closed his hand around it, it snapped, leaving just the part with the note hidden away within the cage of his fingers.

"Oh, goodness, Captain! You alright? The scoundrel didn't hit you, did he?" a new kind of indignant anger chocked the dark haired man for who was this person to call Peter a scoundrel but when he growled, he made sure it was the boy it sounded like he was furious with and not his first mate while sliding the rolled up paper discreetly into his pocket.

"I'm fine. Though, I swear, the next time I get my hands on that little…" and he broke off, pretending to wring a neck, face set in a sharp snarl. The man nodded, twisting that ever present hat between pudgy hands and Hook glared at him, recognizing the signs that the older man wanted to say something.

"About that, Captain…the crew was wondering, about yesterday…why did y-you let him go? You all but had it won," hmm, so that was what all the muttering going on today was about. Apparently it seemed they had no idea what to think when their Captain wasn't angry, though he could hardly blame them as that was all he had been since coming to Never Land. The dark gaze narrowed, becoming steel and he stepped closer to the shorter man, trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes of body odor and liquor that wafted from him.

"Is that so?" he all but hissed and Smee cowered a little, hat becoming stretched out between his worried fingers, "Well, then inform the _crew_ that I didn't fucking _feel _ like it. Is that a problem or do I have to consult you the next time I decide to do something?" now the man was shaking as he was doused with the venom that was dripping from Hook's lips. There was a sharp shake of the balding head and he pulled back, satisfied. In reality, he wasn't really angry. He would be the first to admit his sudden change in attitude and his men were no doubt confused. But it was a good thing to remind them who was the one in charge. There was utter silence as he made his way back to his cabin, the crew shuffling away with the force of his glare.

His hand was on the handle of the recently fixed door when Smee decided to grow a pair and address him once more.

"B-but…Captain…" he froze, hard gaze swinging back to his first mate who winced but continued on, pudgy face scrunched in confusion, "I thought you hated Peter Pan?" again that stillness as every eye turned to him, waiting for his answer and he could feel the note like it was a five pound bar of gold weighing down the pocket of his jacket. The grin that broke out across his face was not what they had been expecting.

"And when did I ever say that?" and the slam of his door cut off the looks of astonishment, leaving him alone in the golden shadows and a note that he was fairly sure was the answering challenge he had taunted the younger man with the day before. Walking to the cluttered table on one side of the cramped, cluttered cabin, he pulled the note out of his pocket, allowing the remaining splinters from the arrow to clatter to the floor. For a moment, he allowed his fingers to fiddle with the ribbon, the fabric soft against calloused pads before he slid it free from the paper, hating how his hand shook as he awkwardly unrolled it, cursing the useless hook that was a poor substitute for an opposable thumb.

Dark eyes blinked at the crude marks on the note, taking it in expressionlessly. There were no words written on the yellowed surface, just lines and hastily drawn symbols that he recognized immediately. Peter had given him a map.

His invitation had been accepted with a rather bold answer on Peter's part and as he rolled the note back up, he was unaware of the tiny smile curling at the edges of his lips, the first real one he had allowed in a very, very long time.

* * *

Peter watched the sun from the top of one of the high cliffs towering over the surging sea for a long time after he delivered the note, knees pressed into his chest, wondering if he had done the right thing after all. There was no denying how much he wanted the dark haired Captain and he was sure that it was mutual but he couldn't help but be wary about it. Like Tinkerbell had said, Hook was far from kind and he wondered if the sheer force of the man would tear him apart.

Then, just as the sun hovered above the flat, blood colored water, he remembered what he had heard the older man say. Peter had made it look like he'd flown away after he shot the arrow (which, for a rather harrowing moment he thought the dark haired Captain would not be able to avoid) but he had doubled back and hid in one of the sails to hear what would be said. The concern of the first mate had made him snicker behind his hand, repulsion obvious in the Captain's dark eyes even from his perch from above. His heart had skipped when he saw Hook pocket the note and then he laughed again when the Captain had nearly scared his poor first mate shitless, saying something to the man that he could not hear but certainly made for interesting results.

His breath had caught, though, when Smee had asked Hook about hating Pan. He was almost sure of the answer; of course he would tell his crew he hated the boy. But he hadn't and Peter had nearly been shocked right out of the rigging by his answer, "_And when did I ever say that?_" Just like that, as if it was nothing at all and the brunette had forgotten how to fly for nearly twenty minutes after the Captain had disappeared into his cabin.

Now he grinned to himself as he took to the air, the onset of night shadowing the large island with the first fingers of darkness. He was sure, now, of his decision.

Hopefully he wouldn't be kept waiting too long.

* * *

Normally traversing the island even during full daylight hours presented Hook with problems, as if it knew he didn't belong there and was letting him know he wasn't welcome. Yet it seemed that on this evening, it sensed he had a personal invitation from Peter Pan himself and all he was left to worry about was following the hastily scrawled directions on the paper. The attempt at the map was actually rather endearing as it seemed to boy couldn't draw worth a damn but at least it got the point across, leading him inland about a mile and from there he followed it around the curve of wide, open planes to where a line of trees ate away at what little light was left, pulling him into deep shadows as he entered under the sweeping branches and encroaching foliage. Luckily there was a faint path weaving through the leafy underbrush or even with the map he would have gotten hopelessly lost. As his eyes got used to the darkness, though, he realized the forest held a slight glow, as if everything was faintly illuminated from the inside. The effect was somewhat surreal and he wondered if this place belonged to the faeries. It was a good thing it was Pan that requested his presence here or he was sure he would not have made it as far as this.

The glow had gotten stronger as the night deepened and he had just passed the last landmark on the map before he reached the little x that announced the destination when a soft sound reached his ears. The familiarity of it struck him hard, something he associated with a time long past and he sped up, following the thread of a tune rather than the paper now crumpled in his hand. That was the little instrument Peter used to play when he was younger, the sound of it traveling through the island and it used to grate on his nerves. What he hadn't realized then was just how beautiful it was.

He was so lost in the haunting threads of music that he nearly stumbled when the path opened up into a wide clearing, the vegetation that had been pulling at his thighs falling away. Wide, leaning branches entwined above the open space so that even during daylight very little light would penetrate here so that instead of grass, a thick layer of soft moss covered almost every surface; the ground, protruding roots, fallen braches, giving the area a soft, lush feel. A sweet scent filled the space, heavy and cloying and that glow that he had noticed some time back seeped out from every individual leaf and petal, as if a million fire flies had switched on their little portable lights and settled into the scenery to become fixed light sources. It felt cozy and somewhat ethereal; a place he should be forbidden. Hook thought about turning around, briefly, because he should never be allowed to be in a place such as this.

And then he saw the reason for being here in the first place and any hesitation disappeared.

Peter was perched on a low branch at the other end of the clearing, one elbow resting on a raised knee as he filled the clearing with the shrill sound of the set of pan pipes pressed again his lips, the melody slow and melancholy, as if the boy was longing for something strong enough that the feeling had seeped into his playing. He wore the same thing he had earlier, the dark, torn pants and the band around his arm. His hair was loose, freed from any confines and this time instead of ribbon and flowers, bright feathers had been threaded into the bright strands, clinging to the thick waves. The boy must have spent some time with the Indians before coming here as there was dark paint marring his smooth skin; a red line curling around one eye, a jagged design over one bicep, two hands, one over each pectoral muscle and three lines worked their way down the flat abdomen. He looked wild and completely untamed. He looked beautiful. Hook just stared, feeling out of place but like his feet were rooted into the soft moss, the deep heart of the sound swirling around him holding still.

For a long moment it seemed Peter was unaware of his presence, eyes closed as he played, line of his shoulders relaxed and Hook was content to just watch, feeling a little jealous at how well the place seemed to mold around this boy, as if he was undoubtedly the sovereign and it belonged to him. He wasn't envious of the younger man but of the island; he had no desire to rule over something but he had belonged to this boy for a very long time. He was jealous because he wanted to find a place for himself somewhere in that carefree heart as well. Then he shifted his weight and a stick caught under one of his boots cracked. Green eyes flew open and the song stopped, the brunette freezing on his perch, slim body tensing as he noticed the intruder.

Hook was above a smile, keeping his face as expressionless as he could because he didn't want the boy to see how that bright gaze affected him, how his heart tripped lightly on his tongue as it attempted to escape out of his mouth. Here he had found himself in uncharted waters and not all the stars in the sky could point him in the right direction. Peter lowered the pipes, wide gaze still pinning the dark haired Captain where he stood. There was no trace of a reaction on the younger man's face but his eyes never left Hook's face as he slipped from the branch and alighted gracefully on the ground, bare feet sinking slightly into the springy moss. There was a deep silence as they studied one another before the brunette took a couple of slow steps forward, a smile breaking out across his face.

"I almost didn't think you were going to dodge that arrow earlier," he said with a laugh caught up in his voice to which Hook frowned deeply, his blank gaze deepening into a glare.

"Well, no thanks to you, of course. You didn't actually need to aim the damn thing right at me," he growled, his voice too gruff for their surroundings but Peter didn't seem to notice because he tipped his head back as he loosed a laugh at the leafy ceiling above their heads, effectively captivating the older man. Never had he seen anything quiet that stunning, the long, chestnut hair lose around slender shoulders, bushing along all that bare skin that glowed like golden honey in the soft light, the wide grin glittering from under the bright, teasing gaze and he realized the boy was too far away. He took a step closer before the boy spoke again.

"It had to look real. I didn't want your crew to think I wasn't trying," again that bright lilt and Peter matched the older man's step with one of his own, so that only half the clearing stood between them. Hook's lips twisted and he resisted the urge to snarl.

"There was no need to try _so_ hard. If I was any slower, we would not be having this conversation," those green eyes intensified and the younger man didn't even bother with walking this time; he just flew into the air and soared the rest of the way across the space, landing a few paces before the older man, cocking his head to the side with a sharp grin as he answered.

"That would be a shame, now wouldn't it," then he was caught in those eyes as they narrowed, filling with a nameless emotion that pulled at him, trying to incinerate him. Swallowing hard and clenching his single hand around the hilt of his sword slung low on his hip, he willed the surge of desire back, refusing to be swept away by the bright wave. The soft lighting and stifling air wasn't helping the muddle his brain was quickly turning into.

"Where is your little sidekick?" he asked instead, voice clipped and uncaring but he knew that bright color he was drowning in saw right through him, heard his stuttering heart and felt the smoldering fire seeping under his skin. The boy's smile turned knowing.

"Tinkerbell isn't here tonight. It's just me," such tempting words and he couldn't breathe properly with those emerald eyes looking at him like they wanted to claim him, thoughts running in conjunction with his own. He refused to be the first one to give in, though, for they were playing a new game now; he would not be the one to make the first move. There was no doubt where this was going but it seemed that between him and Peter, there would always be some type of battle. Gritting his teeth, he let his gaze break free and flicker through the silent glade, taking in the way the small lights seemed to glimmer as if they were alive.

"Where _is_ here?" and, yes, he would admit that he sounded somewhat impressed. How could he not be, after spending so long on a rotting ship with nothing to look at but a dark bay and towering red cliffs? Peter's gaze followed his own and he saw something soft enter the green depths, an affectionate expression attached to this place.

"Oh, this?" a shrug, "I found it a while ago. I think it belongs to the faeries but when I asked about it they wouldn't say," he was caught by the bright gaze again, "Why do you ask?" Hook shifted, taking in the muted beauty that surrounded him, once again feeling like he was trespassing.

"I'm just surprised I was let in here so easily. Usually I cannot traverse the island as easily as I could tonight," his frown was dark, disliking the admission but Peter just studied him quietly.

"You did not want to be here, did you? In Never Land, I mean," the boy asked, catching him off guard and he raised his eyebrows at the question for it was achingly accurate. How could Peter know he hated it here and what did that have to do with the island causing him problems? Slowly, he shook his head, dark eyes still hard and green was shuttered from him was Peter looked down with a small smile, "I see," he paused, hesitating as if he was debating on whether to say something. When he did, Hook was taken with shock, "It was the same for me when I first came here. The island sensed that I did not want to be here; that I just wanted to go back home, even as miserable as it might have been, though now I can't remember it. But then I met Tinkerbell…as soon as I accepted Never Land, it accepted me," then Peter was shrugged again, "At least, I think that's how it works," well, it would certainly explain a lot. Ever since getting stranded in Never Land, Hook had wanted nothing more than to go back home. It was farfetched, for whoever heard of a place knowing a person's heart? But then again, here faeries owned the forests, mermaids still tried to seduce his men and a boy with bright green eyes could fly. "Why do you hate it here so much?" again he was caught off guard and this time he hesitated because he didn't know the answer. When he was finally able to answer, he surprised himself with his own honesty.

"What do I have here besides a worthless bunch of bilge rats for a crew and a ship that should have rotted away a long time ago but stays afloat just to spite me?" his words tasted bitter even to himself and he hated the way Peter's eyes softened with something close to pity, making him feel pathetic and lonely.

"There's more than that here, if you would just look," the brunette took another step forward, now pressing into his personal space, bright eyes looking up at him from under long eyelashes and he glared down at the boy, posture stiff, resisting. He heard the subtle draw but he had never been one to give in easily.

"Really. And what might that be?" his voice was a growl, tone hard and he could see the nervous tremor the younger man was trying to suppress thanks to their close proximity. Any closer, in fact, and he was sure he would be able to smell that bright hair and warm skin. Then the chestnut head tilted back, pretty face tilting towards him and the slow, shy smile was his answer.

And then, just like that, his iron will crumbled into useless pieces to litter the soft moss around his feet. With that one last step, the foot that still separated him from all that golden beauty disappeared and he reached out and snared slender arms in a bruising grip, wrapping his handicap arm around a slim waist as he finally tasted the source of his desire. It wasn't much of a kiss, being hard and unforgiving but he was lost to it anyway as his mouth crushed against full, soft lips, drinking in their proximity like he had been dying of thirst for many, many long, lonely years. Peter made a sharp noise of surprise before he relaxed into the older man's grip, warm breath enveloping him as the boy sighed into the contact. It was like a dam had been torn apart within him, heat threading through him as his brain chanted softly, _yes, yes, why did this take so long?_

When they pulled apart, his breath somewhat inhibited by the steady, excited thrum of his heart that was perhaps not as black as he thought it was, the younger man kept his head tipped back, eyes closed, lips parted and slightly reddened by the force which Hook had captured him with. He waited, a sweet taste still teasing him but he resisted the urged to lick his lips because those wide, green eyes were sliding open and the boy was smiling, a soft curling of his neatly formed lips. He looked intoxicated and strangely happy, which made the dark haired Captain's heart skip.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," the boy teased and when he snared the brunette's lips again, it was a real kiss this time. He wasn't sure he could ever be gentle but the way the soft skin slid against his didn't call for force. Slim fingers threaded into his dark hair as he released his hold on the younger man's arm, burying in thick, oiled curls and he found the chestnut waves were not as soft as he would have thought but they were warm, slightly tangled, suiting the boy perfectly. Using his single hand, he cradled the back of Peter's skull, forcing him to tilt his head back so he could deepen the heady slide of their lips. Fingers tightened in his hair as he slipped his bottom lip along the inside of Peter's top lip, earning himself a soft whimper which deepened to a groan when he opened his mouth, shoving his tongue through the seam of the full lips, forcing his way into the hot cavern.

It was like a shock to his entire system as the younger man's jaw opened, allowing him access because for a moment he was sure is brain would shut down under the sensation of the wet heat he had fallen into. The taste of honey and sunlight exploded on his tongue as he ran it along the back of straight teeth, the hard surface clean and slick before delving deeper, searching, taking. Up along the groves at the top of the brunette's mouth then swiping at the soft insides of both cheeks. Everywhere he touched upon was like a new well of bright, sweet fire and he couldn't get enough, wanting more and more until every last ounce of breath was stolen from his lungs and the roaring in his ears was like the crashing of salty waves. Then their tongues met, sliding, tangling together and he was melting, every last corner of his body feeling the intoxicating touch.

Alas, air had become imperative because there was only so much they could steal from one another and with one last lingering kiss, he pulled back, panting hard, desire clear and burning in his dark onyx eyes. And when that desire met with Peter's clashing, merging, he found his heart had indeed been altered.

* * *

The moment he had seen Hook standing at the edge of the clearing, dark, imposing and grim, his heart had nearly taken flight to leave his body behind as it fluttered among the stars. Even as they exchanged the seemingly easy banter, his entire body had been thrumming with the throbbing surge of nerves. Those dark eyes were still hard, still unwilling to bend but he wasn't a fool. There was only one reason the older man had followed that map and it was in the heated desire tucked away in the dark gaze.

The kiss, though, had taken the brunette completely by surprise, the forced of it nearly tearing him apart. But then he had already known Hook wouldn't be gentle and he found he liked it better like this, with the man being who he was and nearly overwhelming the smaller boy as their lips slid together and tongues tangled in a heady battle that had ended in a rather delightful stalemate. For this was the outcome of all the conflict, all the games, all the deceit and misplaced hate. There was no winner at all. There was no victor because in the end, it wasn't really a battle. It never was. Just a continuous circling of two people whose fate had been intertwined from the beginning but who had been too stubborn and caught up with their own conflicts to see it.

Peter smiled up at the taller man, sliding his fingers through the oiled curls and reveling in the way they felt against his skin, smooth and silky and caught an acknowledging shifting in the dark eyes that had become less intense, more hungry. The dark haired Captain was melting slowly, giving in to the raging heat that had ignited between them, holding the brunette close against his chest behind which thrummed a steady heartbeat.

"What is your name?" Peter asked softly as he freed the older man's hair from its confining tie so he could card his hands through the surprisingly soft curls. A dark eyebrow hitched at the odd question, no doubt wondering if the younger man was losing it and he smiled faintly, "Well, I feel funny calling you Captain Hook. Don't you have a first name?" the man's gaze darkened, lids becoming heavy and Peter shivered as a strong hand slipped free of his hair and moved down the bare skin of his back, knocking free some of the paint still clinging there.

"My name is James," his deep voice reverberated through their point of contact and suddenly the brunette felt as if he was seeing this man for the first time, able to look past the sharp, imposing looks that had only intensified with his desire, past everything he thought he knew and saw that he was just another person with a heart that wasn't any darker than anyone else's, who had dreams and a soul. But most of all he saw this man was lonely, having lived for so long not knowing his place in the world and who only wanted to find his way again. It was daunting but Peter hoped that maybe he would be enough for the older man because the dark haired Captain was all he really wanted. He looked down, watching as one of his own hands slid over a strong shoulder so he could play with the lapel on the front of the red jacket, material scratchy and stiff under his fingertips and he found that name tasted almost as good as the fire of the older man's mouth when he spoke it.

"James…" it was like a spark had been struck for the dark eyes blazed as he whispered the older man's name and suddenly he was being spun around by a strong hand on his shoulders, a metal hook caught in his belt, shoved a few feet until his back was slammed against the rough bark of a tree, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of him. There was an anxious twitter that filled the clearing, as if it was worried the bigger man had hurt him but when he looked up into the onyx depths, he found nothing in the way of violence. Just a burning passion that had been ignited and was spilling over until it scorched his skin as he was pressed back into the tree truck, the dark haired man towering over him.

"Say it again," he breathed, face very close and Peter shivered as the warm words ghosted over his face, reminding him of a storm brewing over salty water that promised a rain of fire. The clearing settled again when he pulled the other man closer by once again curling his hands into dark hair, green eyes full.

"…James…" and then groaned once again as the older man closed the distance between them, opening his mouth immediately so he could taste more of that dark, raging fire as the slick appendage invaded his mouth. They were pressed together, thigh to thigh, hip bone to hip bone, hearts echoing together, separated only by a couple layers of clothes and skin. He was swept away by the feeling of their tongues sliding together, of being dominated, of just giving in because he could feel _everything_ and he never wanted it to end.

They surfaced for air only briefly and when Hook returned to claim his mouth again, it was slower, lazier but it held something else too, a kind of deep satisfaction, like the man wanted nothing more than to keep Peter pressed up against this tree and attempt to draw out his soul using his lips, his teeth, his tongue. One kiss led into another and then another, slow sweeping licks administered to every last inch of his mouth making his knees weak and his breath come short, like there wasn't enough oxygen in the air to fuel the furnace raging in his breast. All that he had learned from Michael was not enough to prepare him for this and for all the experience he had, he was still clinging to the red jacket and dark curls, breathing in fire with every gasp.

It was a strong, muscular thigh shifting to press in between his legs that had him tearing his mouth free to gasp loudly into the quiet clearing, the bolt of pleasure sweeping through him, tingling along his nerves so that he rocked against it, inciting a low growl from the older man, who snatched one of his wrists and slammed it to the rough bark over his head, pressing his bigger frame hard into the younger man.

"Ugh…please…" the plea came out as a whimper as that thigh pressed harder, rubbing insistently against the crotch of his pants where his cock was already beginning to harden, heat pooling dangerously. Sharp teeth nipped at his jaw, punctuating the movement of the leg between his own and he rolled his hips forward, desperately seeking more friction. Warm lips sucked a line down the side of his neck, the flat of a hot, wet tongue randomly soothing the dull aches that were sure to bruise later on. Every touch, whispered breath, forceful press of their bodies and he had become so undone, he was sure there would never be anything but this fire sweeping through his veins.

"Please what?" snarled the older man, cruelly jerking his knee upwards and pressing it against the bulge in Peter's pants, keeping unforgiving pressure there until the younger man cried out, bucking into it only to groan a complaint when it was taken away. Coherency was something he had to reach for but he was able to command his arms to slide free of the older man's grip, he slid his hands under the jacket, the white shirt underneath smooth as he pushed it off broad shoulders, down strong arms. His green eyes, now glazed with pleasure met fiery black and he shuddered, not hearing the thick, bright material as it dropped to the soft ground.

"Please…I want you," his voice was broken, thick with fire, husky because he had never wanted anything more in his entire life. Warm lips caressed his own, the gentle touch at odds with the dark haired man's previous force and he was allowed to wrap his hands around those strong shoulders, pressing forward as their lips slid together. Keeping with the easy pace, Hook once again pressed into him, this time with his hips instead of his leg. The delightful friction built up the crackling pleasure once again and it took him a moment to realize the man was as hard as he was, gasping softly into Peter's mouth as their clothed erections ground together. The pace picked up slightly, the heat now tightening, turning into something bright and uncontrollable.

His lips were released so he could breathe better and he tipped his head back, giving Hook an invitation that he gladly took, worrying patches of golden skin. Awash in sensation, the brunette lifted one long leg, fitting their hips together better, crying out softly as the rhythm became almost too hot. For a moment it was nothing but friction, a hand and cool metal sliding against the bare skin of his chest and abdomen teasing, warm as he rocked into every shallow thrust, long hair catching and tangling on the rough trunk. Teeth scraped along his earlobe, hot breath stirring soft strands of hair and the little extension of skin was sucked into that warm mouth before it was let go in favor of whispered words.

"Say my name again," as lost as he was in the spiraling waves of pleasure, he didn't feel the way the man shifted his weight, concentrating on how wonderful it felt every time their erections dragged together, even clothed as they were and how a pair of lips had attached to his neck. So he sucked in a breath to comply only to choke, eyes flying wide open as Hook reached down and ground his palm into the brunette's groin. It was hard and fast, the kind of touch he needed to finish and the heat that had been gathering leisurely in the pit of his stomach exploded abruptly, a glittering expanse of stars shimmering across his vision.

"AAH! JAMES!!" it came out as a shout as he arched into the flow of the heat, head tipping back with the bliss of his release that soaked the front of his pants with sticky warmth, hips bucking in time to the gentle roll of the man's palm as he rode out his sudden orgasm. Even as he came down, relaxing into the iron support that held his waist gently so he wouldn't slump to the ground, he was unable to open his eyes, breathing ragged. Slowly he dropped his leg to the ground, feeling his release sliding uncomfortably down his thighs, shivering as that warm hand left him to swirl around the dip of his navel the pointed curve of a hook running softly over the skin of his side. When he managed to open his eyes and blink away the haze, he found the dark gaze had intensified to the point where one look nearly reducing his bones to ash. But the Captain wasn't forceful or demanding when he kissed Peter, letting him come down completely from his high before pulling back and giving the younger man a lopsided smile, nearly stealing the brunette's breath. It was startlingly beautiful on the sun darkened features and he hoped he might see much more of it in the near future.

"That was quite the show," he said, making Peter blush furiously and if the younger man didn't know better, he would have said Hook was teasing him. Somehow he managed to smile through his embarrassment, gazing up through long eyelashes as he leaned forward, pushing off the tree as he did. It succeeded in catching the dark haired man off guard so he wouldn't see what Peter was up to.

"There's so much more," he breathed in a soft, sultry voice, nimble fingers quickly freeing the older man of his wide belt, careful not to let the sword clatter as it hit the ground, noting the dark eyes once again becoming shadowed with lust, completely unaware. He leaned up, kissing the edge of one sharp cheek bone before scraping his teeth against a golden ring caught up in one of the older man's ears, tugging on it. It was as Hook draped one arm around his waist and bent his head so Peter could do as he wished that he struck, slipping his hand into the older man's pants to grip the hot erection firmly.

An explosive curse catapulted through the clearing, the bigger man jerking against him and he winced as the sharp end of the hook dug into his skin. It was the reaction he was hoping for, though, and he dragged his hand up and down the man's length that press heavily into his hand. It was incredible to watch such a normally frowning, closed off person coming undone by a mere touch, hot breath hitching as it was pressed into chestnut hair. But he had no intention of letting the dark haired Captain finish as he had done and as the hand on his hip tightened brutally, he pulled away, grinning up into half-lidded eyes. Hook growled angrily, slamming the younger man bodily back against the tree but Peter held onto his smile.

"That's not really how you want to end it, is it?" it was just a mocking tease, another game and the onyx depths sharpened dangerously, neatly curved lips curling in an unsatisfied snarl.

"It doesn't have to be once a night, damn it," and the brunette laughed softly, twining his hand into curls that he had already found were delightfully soft and wonderful to touch. Once he might have been mortally embarrassed to say what he said next but for some reason, that kind of inhibition had disappeared and all he really wanted to see was the older man's reaction.

"I know that but when you do," here he leaned forward again, catching the smoldering gaze so it impress his point, "I want you to do it inside of me," there was dead silence as Hook stared at him, dark eyes wide at the audacity and while he knew he was blushing, that look was worth every word. A second later he was pinned again, crushed brutally against the tree trunk and he was sure he would have scrapes along his back but with the way Hook was plundering his mouth the way he was, he really could care less. He could barely drag a desperate breath through his nose as a hot palm dragged over his skin, grinding against one of his nipples that sent shooting pleasure right to his cock that was already stirring with renewed interest, his favorite flavor of dark, spicy fire heavy on his tongue. But this was not really what he had in mind; to be taken against a tree. So when Hook started a blazing trail down over his chin to suck on the protruding bump of his Adam's apple, he gasped a protest.

"W-wait! James…h-hang on…not like-ngh!-this," sharp teeth closed down on his pulse point, making him thrash before the pain eased slightly, dark head pulling back to regard him. If he wasn't careful, he was going to lose himself to that fire blazing in the dark gaze.

"You say something like that and expect me to stop?" the man asked incredulously and Peter couldn't help a small, triumphant grin with shifted to something else as the man rocked into him again, slamming his hard member into Peter's own mostly soft one, eyes rolling back as he tried to sort through the onslaught for more words.

"Y-you did, didn't you?" he gasped, managing a half smile and got a thrill out of the dangerous blaze of the renowned temper coming to life in the black eyes. A hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head back and he met those eyes with his own bright gaze, panting slightly.

"Stop fucking around," the older man hissed and he winced as the words were backed up with a sharp thrust of strong, narrow hips. Tugging at the man's wrist in hopes of the grip on his hair easing a bit, he licked his lips.

"I'm not," he answered, voice strained but calm, "I just meant, I don't want to like this, against a tree," finally the hold slackened and he sighed, relaxing into the heat of the older man's body still pressing into his own.

"Well, then, what did you have in mind?" the deep voice was still husky, the raging fire making it smoky and the desire spiked once more inside of him, his own length beginning to harden again in the sticky mess of his pants. Managing to free himself from where he had found his other wrist pinned to the bark by a metal hook, he shoved the dark haired Captain back a step, allowing him a breath of cool air that he dragged gratefully into scorched lungs. Hook was already a beautiful mess, his dark hair falling into his face, what was left of his clothes wrinkled and beginning to fall off, tan face flushed with arousal. Stunning and Peter had every intention of making it his. He stepped away from the tree after carding shaking fingers through his own hair, dislodging a father or two, noting the paint on his chest had become smudged, beginning to flake and melt off.

"Why did you think I picked this place?" he asked as a way of answering, stepping close to the other man again until he could almost taste he breath again before moving past him, to another part of the clearing he had prepared earlier. Well, he hadn't but that was besides the point. One of the trees' roots had grown high out of the ground, curling in a perfect circle that had been filled with soft feathers and flowers and grass before it was covered by the softest of silk, tucked around it to make a soft bed. Beside it, balanced on a flat part of the roots had been left small gifts; a small, golden basin of warm oil, several soft blankets and two cups beside a tall pitcher he knew to hold cold, sweet water. He had blushed furiously when he had first seen it but now he smiled as he stopped before it, turning to regard the older man who was still watching him darkly next to another tree.

"Well?" and he held out his hand, heart beating unsteadily because he desperately hoped the older man would accept. There was a quick beat, the slightest pause in which he saw the dark eyes come to understand that this would not be a swift fuck to leave them both empty and longing for something more. This _was_ the something more. All he had to do was take Peter's hand.

Three swift strides and instead of curling his fingers around the brunette's, he swept him off his feet, the hook digging slightly into the younger man's thigh as he was lifted into strong arms. The next thing he knew he was being kissed senseless, mouths clashing in a tangle of teeth and lips and tongues. He barely had the cognitive stability to wind arms around the other man's shoulders and assist him with a little boost of his own gravity defying ability. When he pulled away, he was laughing, slipping free of the other man's arms and remaining aloft, hovering now over the makeshift bed, the giddy joy of being accepted giving him an extra buoyancy. He grinned as dark eyes widened while taking in the bed before lifting to Peter in disbelief.

"You did all this?" he asked, sounding as if he didn't know whether to be impressed or not. The younger man scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away.

"Well, no. When I said the faeries didn't know of this place…I lied," dark eyebrows climbed the dark forehead and he shrugged, trying to fight the blush that was painting itself over his cheeks, "They gave it to me…a-as a gift," again that incredulous expression as the dark eyes took in the basin of oil, the blankets meant for afterwards, everything a small kindness.

"Why would they do that?" he asked, leaning down to run long fingers over the silvery silk and Peter dropped to the soft surface of the bed, feeling a little awkward as his feet sunk into the wonderful feeling of silk and the finest down.

"T-they…um, see, they think I'm their king…you know, of Never Land and its traditional of them to…give a gift w-w-when…they gave me the sword and this…" and he broke off, mortified now, Tinkerbell's words from yesterday running in anxious, unsteady circles in his head, bouncing off the inside of his skull. But Hook tipped his head, no doubt wondering why Peter didn't finish his explanation.

"When what?" again that raging blush and he had no way of hiding it. Damn the pixies and their infernal tradition. Hanging his head, he answered.

"When one of their rulers…t-takes a…c-c-consort," and he flinched, expecting rage or at least angry words because he was sure Hook would hate the idea of begin labeled as such. But there was a long pause and he hazarded a glance at the dark haired Captain to see the sharp features had frozen, shock stark on the handsome face. Fear jolted through him and he was just about to offer that the man was in no such way his consort when he was struck dumb when Hook threw back his head and…_laughed…_

Peter gaped stupidly, thinking he had gone mad because he was sure he had just seen, just _heard_, Captain Hook laugh but the rich sound was still ringing through the clearing, which seemed to be glowing brighter and he swallowed hard. It was…he didn't even know how to describe it, the white teeth gleaming in the golden illumination, dark curls tossed back and…he was lost, sure that if he had not already been in love with the older man, he was now. A glittering curve of metal swept away a tiny tear as the dark haired man returned to himself, fixing him with an amused gaze, smile still tugging at the corner of lips Peter had discovered tasted of sea water and fire.

"I beg your pardon but that…well…it's different…" another snort and the brunette wondered if maybe the man was laughing at the idea of being his consort. Unbidden, a sharp stab of hurt laced through him because he knew consort was just a fancy name for lover and if Hook didn't want that, then what did he want? It helped him break free from the spell the older man's laugh had woven over him and tawny eyebrows draw down in a frown.

"I know it's a little strange but if you don't want that, we ca—" but he was cut off when the dark gaze sobered, pinning him, making him feel off balance.

"No, that's not what I meant…" there was a pause and then he was nearly knocked flat, breath slammed out of him like he had been struck, "I'll be your consort," how his jaw didn't become unhinged and tumble to the earth was beyond him because the way he was gaping it really should have. He could tell Hook was uneasy by saying such a thing, no doubt feeling exposed and somehow Peter managed to pick up the pieces of his battered psyche so he could lift himself into the air, landing on the roots of the bed, making him the taller of the two. Dark eyes met green and he reached out the small distance between him and the Captain, drawing the older man that last step with a fist full of shirt, "That is, if you'll have me?" and the younger man found his smile somewhere amid the jumble, drawing his fingers through soft curls as he allowed himself to drown in dark, dark eyes.

"Yes…of course…" strong arms wrapped around his waist as the dark head tipped forward to rest on his shoulder, lips pressed to his skin. He had no idea what to make of this new Hook who was bordering on the verge of docile. Of course, he knew everything about this man was everything _but_ docile, which was why he was drawn to him in the first place but this hesitation was a cool breath amid the fire. Then the lips brushed over golden skin as the older man spoke one word,

"Good," before sinking his teeth into Peter's shoulder.

The bright head tossed back with a loud groan. It wasn't enough to hurt terribly but it would mark him, a stark reminder for whoever might see of whom he belonged to. The rage of heat once again stirring, he pushed back the collar of the other man's shirt and returned the favor, drinking in the salty taste of the dark skin and the way a soft moan was pressed into the column of his neck that changed to a sharp growl when he broke skin, the coppery taste of blood mingling with the deeper flavor of skin and salt on his tongue.

Their lips met when Hook dragged his head up and this time, he dominated, mapping out every last place in the hot cavern that contained that deep taste he couldn't seem to get enough of, swallowing the next soft sound the older man offered. He didn't know which one of them it was that did it, dragging off the white shirt off strong shoulder, long arms but all he knew was that he was forced to break away from that kiss, giving up that wonderfully rich taste…and then he got a good look at the older man as the soft material whispered to the mossy ground, already forgotten and realized that, when in favor of certain other things, perhaps finding the older man's lips again with his own wasn't immediately imperative.

Lean muscle graced a lithe frame, darkened by all the years of being under the sun. Green eyes traced the curve of strong pectorals and the ridge of a flat abdomen, taking in the way sinew and muscle connected to hard bone, all covered by smooth skin. Every dip shadowed softly, every rise highlighted by golden light. Breath once again captured, he reached out a shaky hand to trace along a white arch of a scar in the shape of a neat little crescent just over one dark nipple, his touch making the skin jump under his finger tip. Hook leaned back and just watched him drink the older man in, dark eyes hooded. There was another scar, this one long and jagged over his rib cage and he followed along this one too, wondering where the older man had gotten it. There gazes met then before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the Captain's neck. Then he lifted the man's left hand and slid his fingers along the cold, curved metal that had taken the place of five warm fingers, sliding his tongue along the cool surface as if in apology.

That seemed to be the dark haired man's breaking point because the next thing he knew he was sprawled in his back, sinking into the soft silk and the scent of lavender and sweet peppermint surrounding him as it had been used in the bedding. Hook knelt over him, dark hair spilling over one shoulder, onyx eyes burning with a bright fire and he wanted nothing more than to let it consume him.

Lips found his again as the older man supported himself over the brunette and for a moment it was nothing but that, their lips sliding together, breath mingling, just a sweet moment taken from the crashing waves of desire. Then a warm, dry palm slid up his side, curling around his ribs and he arched into the touch. A thumb rolled over one of his nipples, sensation rippling through his body, a whispered groan slipping free into the older man's throat. Hook kept the motion on the sensitive nub as he pulled back from the kiss, the continued stimulation bordering on painful, stealing away the sounds the brunette was making as he pressed their lips together again…then again and Peter was sure he would never get enough of just kissing the older man.

Sharp pain bolted through him, just adding to the heat pooling in his groin, making him jerk away, crying out softly. Soft lips trailed over the exposed line of his neck before a warm, smooth tongue soothed the ache away. Long, slender fingers buried in dark curls as he pressed his chest harder against Hook's mouth that was now assaulting his other nipple. He might have said something, a soft plea or perhaps a whispered name; he was already so lost in a slow buzz of pleasure he couldn't be sure. Suddenly the contact of the warm, wet mouth was gone and when he opened his eyes, he found the older man reaching for the fastening of his pants, intent on freeing him from their sticky confines. Sucking in a suddenly unsteady breath, he lifted his hips, trying not to give in to embarrassment as the dark material was slid down over his slender hips, freeing his long legs.

There was a long pause in which the pants were discarded somewhere on the mossy floor and dark eyes racked over his body that was now covered with nothing but melting clay-based paint and strands of his own shining hair. He didn't know what the older man thought for he didn't say anything but when the dark gaze met his once again, he was nearly incinerated. The fire that burned there, so hot and bright, belonged to him, seeping under his skin to flow through his veins and it almost hurt to look at the older man. Then he was once again being crushed under the searing wave of desire as his mouth was plundered while the metal curve of a hook sent a shock through him as it cupped the thickening shaft of his erection and dragged over the soft, sensitive skin. The mouth he was breathing into and the movement of the cool touch on his cock nearly drove him insane, making him once again completely hard, rocking softly against the slowly building pressure.

"Hook…James…please…" breath was suddenly hard to come by, heart slamming against his ribs as a hot tongue swiped against his chin which he leaned down to suck into his mouth hungrily, pulling it in deep so he could once again lose himself to that deep taste as it flooded his taste buds. There was a deep answering groan and those narrow hips lowered to crash against his own, rocking mercilessly. The rough material against his member was achingly good, his voice ricocheting through the closed off space and it was followed by a deeper one, full of an aching desire that threaded through him, muddling his brain. Lips brushed against his ear as another thrust pressed him into the soft bed.

"I can't wait any longer," and he groaned at the almost desperate note in the husky voice, making him weak with the throaty sound. A dark forehead pressed against his own as he wound his arms around strong shoulders, hot breath heavy on his cheek and the onyx eyes were shuttered away behind closed eyelids, hiding the fire from him. It was the only way he was able to have the courage to form his request because he was sure if he was still trapped by all of that blinding black fire, he would not be able to even form words.

"I want to see you…" at the soft, hesitant request, the older man drew back, staring at Peter for a beat, before sitting back completely and fumbling with the waist band of his pants. The younger man lifted himself onto his elbows, anxiety whipping through him was he watched. The long fingers slipped a bit, hindered with slight trembling he might not have noticed or believed if he wasn't staring as he was and the fact there was only one hand with which the dark haired Captain had to work with hindered him. Who would have thought the older man would be nervous but all of his smooth grace seemed to have fallen away, leaving him raw, vulnerable, and Peter could see it, right next to raging lust. Finally he managed to free the last button and was pulling off his boots so the dark material could slide down strong thighs, over the elegant dip of his knees, baring shapely calves.

How he could ever have thought this man was ugly was unfathomable. All of his skin was that dusky olive color, marred in several places by silvery lines that spoke of a violent past. Slim hips connected to long legs, the strong line of the bone underneath obvious in the straight line of his body, every dip and curve of muscle visible. A dark line of hair led down to a v of course curls out of which strained a thick erection, flushed with desire and pressing into the flat slope of his lower stomach. Peter's mouth went dry, his own cock twitching at the sight.

They were both breathing a little hard as the older man crawled back over him, sliding his hand down one of the brunette's raised thighs, blunt fingernails teasing the soft skin before curling around his erection, making him, if possible, even more needy. He whimpered another plea, spreading his legs apart in invitation and Hook groaned in appreciation, licking a hot path up his chest, avoiding the paint still clinging to his skin as he dipped one finger into the slit of the younger man's erection. Another shout was thrown to the ceiling as an intoxicating wave of pleasure washed over him, eyes watering slightly as the finger tip rubbed almost too hard as it moved inside of him.

There was a soft curse and the weight above him shifted, the hand leaving him feeling unsatisfied and aching. Green eyes fluttered open to see why the older man had moved away, body stretched out as he leaned to the side and he groaned as he watched long fingers dip into the small basin of oil, the slick substance coating three digits as the dark haired Captain turned his attention back to the younger man. Their eyes locked and he pressed his thighs open wider, tilting his hips as the other man settled between his knees.

"It looks as though you've done this before," the older man said huskily as oiled fingers dragged down his hip, making him shiver and he unable to look away for those compelling onyx depths. He nodded slowly, unable to form words as the long fingers continued to caress his skin and he yelped when the hook that had been resting at his side flicked upwards, scoring a red line over his skin. The dark eyes burned with something other than lust now as he shuddered with the sweetest mix of pain and pleasure, "Who?" Peter blinked, and then realized Hook was jealous. Finding a smile, he reached up and brushed his fingers over a sharp cheekbone.

"Just a boy," he answered, breaking off to gasp as the older man pressed the smooth curve of the hook against the tip of his cock, grinding down. The contrast between his hot skin and the cool kiss of metal was blindingly good and it took a minute before he could find the rest of his reply, "H-he only taught me a-about... this. We were friends, nothing else," that seemed to satisfy the bigger man for the pressure on his erection eased, making him moan softly at the loss and the dark eyes lost their hard edge as they watched him, drinking in his every reaction. Warm, slick oil trailed over his inner thigh, stroking once up along the underside of his erection before sliding behind the already tightening sac of his balls, finding the pucker of his entrance. Peter bit his lip, face flushing a deep, dusky crimson as he held his breath, forcing himself to relax. The dark look on the older man's face spoke of cracking control as did the way the Captain had begun to drip pearly pre-release onto the shimmering silk.

The only warning he was given was a circling of calloused finger tips soaked in warm oil before two fingers slammed into him, sliding all the way in without pausing and despite himself, even knowing the nature of this man, he still bucked his hips at the painful intrusion, head tossed back as he screamed. It was hard not to clamp down on the fingers as they brutally stretched his inner walls, the impulse to push them out almost too much to endure. Tears collected in the corner of his eyes as he tried to calm his breathing. At first he thought the older man was just going to start stretching him without offering any consolatory stimulation but the hazy green gaze widened in shock as the dark haired Captain leaned down and gently swirled his tongue over the younger man's cock that was now barely even hard. The dueling sensations was like a bolt of electricity to his system, the two fingers moving inside of him as a warm mouth enveloped him, every touch turning into liquid pleasure. Just like that he was painfully hard again and didn't know which way to move his hips; back into the fingers or up into the scorching mouth.

Hook left him momentarily to gather more oil on his hand and Peter cried out when three fingers slid into him, stretching him further. Now the dark eyes just watched him, the slow thrusting of the hand slick against his inner walls and he met each one, the feeling getting better every time. Then those fingers crooked inside of him, jabbing a place that had fire shooting up his spine, pleasure exploding in glittering lights over his vision. The roaring in his ears preventing him from hearing if he actually yelled as loudly as he should have but he must have because the hand slipped out of his entrance to grip his waist, his legs gently rearranged and there was a dark promise in the dark eyes when he met them.

There was a renewal of pain as the older man entered him, sliding all the way in with the first thrust. He had to take several deep breaths to steady himself, all of the bright glittering fire licking at his veins, at the inside of his skin, making it feel almost too tight. Thankfully, the dark haired Captain didn't move right away, waiting as he leaned down over the brunette, capturing him in a sweet kiss. He titled his head back so he could taste more, the warm, slick lips sliding against his own accentuating the throbbing heat buried deep inside of him. The strong arms vibrated slightly as the dark haired man tried to hold himself back and when Peter pulled back, he found the darkened features were flushed, eyes nearly closed, breath coming short. The dark hair tickled the younger man's neck and forehead which he twined around one finger, pulling the man's face close, forcing the dark eyes to open, to look at him. It was incredible how Hook had unraveled and it just made Peter want him even more, the fire blazing in the pit of his belly raging ever hotter.

"James, you don't have to hold back," he whispered, his own desire thick in his husky baritone and the dark eyes flashed before the older man pulled out of him almost all of the way only to slam back in, ripping a soft cry from the brunette's throat. There was a muffled curse and he caught the way the sharp features had softened in pleasure before he was sliding back up on the silken bed as Hook thrust into him once again. He clung to strong arms, gasping every time he was filled, sweat beginning to shimmer on his golden skin.

The pace was never slow even from the beginning but it didn't really matter. Their bodied slid together smoothly, fitting perfectly as heat scored through him. Fire was crackling at the edges of his vision, the source already tightening between his legs, which he lifted off the silk surface of the bed to draw Hook in deeper, murmuring and moaning softly. At first the dark eyes watched him as he tossed his head back, narrowed to little glittering slits as he moved. Then the older man adjusted the angle of his thrusts and when he struck that spot deep within the brunette, Peter could barely comprehend anything that didn't belong with the racing fire searing along his veins, tingling up his spine and spreading along his legs.

His cry must had spurred on the dark haired man because after that initial strike, their rhythm became fast, brutal, his prostate nearly assaulted as it was slammed into every time their hips locked together and he fell apart fast. Vaguely he was aware of his own voice begging as he wrapped his arms around strong shoulders, all kinds of noises breaking free that he hadn't even known he could make. All the while the shattering end that was sure to leave him broken upon some dark, distant shore was rushing towards him.

"Hah…Oh, G-god…J-James…yes…" Hook seemed to be losing control as well because his demanding movements became erratic. He had leaned forward so that every time he thrust in, his flat abdomen stimulated the underside of the younger man's weeping erection and had curled his good hand into shining chestnut waves now darkened with their efforts. There was going to be a bruise where the metal hook was pressed into his hip but he was sure the older man would have imprints of Peter's hands on the sun darkened skin of his arms for days. The sharp nose was pressed into his shoulder, soft groans and half-bitten of exclamations breathed into his ear and still the pleasure built, the surge of bright fire crashing into him in time to his raging heartbeat and gasping breaths.

"F-fuck!" the word was growled in his ear as the older man gave a particularly sharp thrust and the pressure crested surging through him in bright pulses of agonizing, blinding pleasure. It was all he could do to remain in one piece as his release ripped through his body, come spattering up his stomach and chest and even behind his eyelids glittered every color, bright and shimmering. He might have made a sound but he couldn't hear it because the buzz in his ears blocked everything out. For a shining moment it was just that feeling and the warmth of the man that had given it to him. Then he could almost sense the clearing around him shudder as if his climax had been felt by the island, a soft sigh like a breath of sweet air sweeping over them and he wondered if he had just been given some kind of blessing.

Just as he was coming down, the last pulse dragged from him, there was a loud groan in his ear in the form of his name and then the shoulders he clung tensed as searing fire filled him. It was a different kind of pleasure and he moved his hips in time with the dark haired Captain's release, drawing it out. Then he couldn't move, content to just close his eyes to shut out the prevailing green all around them and let Hook's weight press him deeper into the now soiled silk as his arms gave out, collapsing on the brunette with a grunt.

For a moment Peter thought he was flying, once again soaring through the clouds, wind tugging at his hair, absolute freedom thrumming through his veins. But when his eyelids fluttered open and his managed to make his eyes focus, he found where he lay was so much better than any patch of sky could have been to navigate. Slowly his breathing returned to normal and he was unaware of the sated smile curling on his lips as his long fingers cared through dark, damp curls.

Finally Hook seemed to come to himself, shifting his weight so he was no longer crushing the younger man but other than that, he didn't really move, keeping his face hidden in the junction of Peter's neck and shoulder. He realized he had never been aware of someone like he was of the dark haired man, feeling the expanding and contracting of lean muscle as he breathed, the sound of it easing past his ear, every gust of air warm. But more than that, he thought he could sense the man, like he would know where he was even if they were not in each other's company. Green eyes traced along the curve of a pierced ear, the golden hoop shining against the dark skin and he draw one finger along it, catching the hitch of the other man's breath. There was a soft hum in his ear and Hook tilted his head enough so that if Peter turned his own head to the side, he could meet one of the dark eyes.

"hhmmm, so…is that what it feels like when you fly?" the question took him by surprise and he snorted a laugh, finding he liked the way the soft skin under the sharp jaw felt under his fingers. His grin was bright as he answered, liking the way the older man was still sprawled, completely boneless, on top of him.

"No, that was better. But its close," another lazy hum and it could have meant many things. Absently Peter drew his fingers along soft, firm skin slick with cooling sweat before coming across an errant curl and sticking his finger up the middle of the dark cork screw, "Why, do you want to fly? I can teach you," there was a shifting at his side and again that dark eyes was regarding him, expression in it flat. Then the sharp nose wrinkled slightly, as if the older man was disregarding the idea.

"I did but I thought it would get me back home. Don't really need to now," that statement made a lump rise in the back of the younger man's throat and his grip unconsciously tightened in the dark hair. There was a pause were the dark eye was shuttered from his gaze before a small smile flashed across the older man's features, "Besides, I would look stupid," and he was smiling all over again.

"Does this mean you don't want to go back after all?" he held his breath as Hook was silent for several beats, a warm hand sliding slowly up over his chest, sliding through the evidence of his orgasm. He was almost afraid of the older man's answer. But again there was that smile and he thought it made the man ten times more beautiful than he already was, easing years of loneliness and anger.

"There isn't anything in the place I used to call home anymore," he answered with a sigh, "But maybe here is something here after all," then that dark eye slid open again to catch Peter's brilliant grin and a ghost of a laugh skidded over his cooling skin, "So, does this consort thing work both ways?" chestnut eyebrows rose then he rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" he asked, tone light but when he went to pull away because he was slightly disgusted with the way the cum was starting to dry on his skin, the strong arm held him in place and Hook lifted his head to glare down at the younger man, looking for all the world like a sleeping panther whose tail had just been stomped on.

"It matters. I am willing to give myself to you but I don't like to share," the tone of his deep voice a dangerous, making Peter shiver but his smile was soft and reassuring. After all, he had come back mostly just for this. Why would he ever want anything else?

"That's good because I don't either. Now can you get your lazy ass off of me? You're heavy," the dark eyes studied his face a moment longer before he flopped face first back into the soft bed, twisting so his weight was no longer holding the smaller man in place. Peter winced as the softened member slid free of his entrance, white streams of the older man's release trickling down his thighs to stain the silk even more. Hook didn't seem the least bit inclined to move, lying sprawled on his stomach as the brunette crawled over to where the blankets were. The older man muttered something that sounded like,

" 'M not lazy," dark hair hiding his face as Peter grinned. The material was wonderfully soft against his skin as he cleaned himself up, silently thanking his faerie friends before throwing the soiled blanket at the older man.

"Sure you're not," there was an indignant huff before Hook managed to raise himself into a lounging position, the soft fabric looking almost too bright against the dark skin. Peter sat back against a rough root that served as a wall for their bed to watch, gaze darkening as he took the lithe form of the older man in. All that rich dark color reminded him of cinnamon and the little chocolates he used to share with his brothers while in London, sweet and satisfying. If he had known this was what the man looked like under the bright jacket, he would have done this a long time ago. Of course, that wouldn't have worked because he needed to have grown up to even appreciate it. At any rate, there was no way he was ever going to let this man go now. Hook caught him staring and just glared back, though he noticed how his hand slowed purposely in their movements, making the brunette's mouth go dry.

"You know…" he said slowly as he caught the blanket that was thrown back at him, musing while turning to the pitcher of water and filling both cups with the clear liquid, "It's very different on Earth than when you left it," a dark eyebrow quirked in interest, a hand pushing the tumbling fall of curls from a sharply featured face before he accepted the cup Peter handed to him.

"How so?" he asked while the younger man swiftly drank the cold, clear water, teeth aching with the sudden chill. He tapped his chin, considering the man as he calmly drank his portion of water more slowly. Here was a man still wild, untamed, with a blood thirst even Peter was willing to acknowledge and a fiery pride that matched his temper. He had never been refined like the men back in the world of the London he knew and he could never be satisfied unless there was always a new adventure, just like Peter himself. The only reason he had sat still all these years was because he didn't have much of a choice.

"When I was in school, I read about pirates like you; murderers and thieves. Anything for the money, breaking all the laws…" the curved lips quirked at the description, Hook leaning back on his handicapped arm to regarded the younger man.

"Now, just what are you trying to say?" he asked and Peter flushed, putting his cup down and snatched the other from the Captain's hand, not caring if he wanted more who just snorted and reached out to yank the brunette back to sprawl ungracefully on top of the older man with an undignified yelp. There was a brief tussle as they tried to find a position that was comfortable and not let the other get the upper hand before Peter was settled onto his back while the dark haired man was once again laying half on top of him, heavy weight warm and comforting. Only then did he try to explain himself as he twisted another errant curl around his fingers.

"I just meant that those men are nothing but names in history books. You would waste away in such a world. God knows I almost did," there was a pause in which he noticed the clearing was very still, silence thick and he could almost feel the eyes that were surely watching them, Tinkerbell no doubt drunk enough that her wings were useless and giggling away behind the cover of a wide leaf or two. In reality, he didn't care who knew or saw. The older man reached blindly for the clean blanket and dragged it over them so that they were suspended in their own little cocoon of warmth. Only then did he speak, his voice low and syrupy with fatigue.

"Is that why you came back here? Because you were wasting away?" Peter sighed, eyes studying the ceiling of the leafy canopy above their heads before he answered, green shadowed with memories.

"That was part of it," he said softly, treading his fingers through the mass of curls to just leave them there, twined comfortably in the warm strands. The other he used to wrap around broad shoulders that were somewhat scored and red from earlier abuse with his fingernails and he held on tight, thinking that while he may had left his family behind, this more than made up for it. For the first time in a very long time, the ache of longing had disappeared, leaving the warmth of contentment curled in his chest.

"And what was the other part?" it sounded now as if the older man was trying to stay awake and he looked down at the dark head, seeing nothing but black curls and rich, tan skin, smiling softly.

"What do you think?" he punctuated his question that was more of an answer with a tug on the dark hair and Hook sifted with a grunt, slipping one long leg between the brunette's before settling again. The arm around his waist tightened minutely, telling him Hook knew exactly what he meant.

"Good," and then the warm breath against his neck evened out as the dark haired Captain gave in to sleep. Peter swallowed hard before curling into the warm body covering his own, turning his head so he could breathe in the air the other man had just exhaled, the taste reminding him of hot, spicy kisses, the heat reminding him of how complete he felt.

Now, just as he was following the older man into sleep, he realized he had finally, truly come home at last.

* * *

How anyone would be able tell it was morning with the leaves over their head blocking out whatever sunlight might have made it to such a lonely clearing, he didn't know but he really didn't care much either because he was being shaken out of dreams that no longer held darkness and shadows. The warmth that had remained curled up at his side all through the night was missing now and his shoulder was being brutally shaken. He swam his way through the haze of sleep that shrouded his mind and recognized the clear voice as it called to him.

"…so lazy! Get up, you useless pirate, you can't sleep all day," what was wrong with sleeping all day? Especially since the surface he lay upon was so delightfully soft and smelled delicious, like sweet flowers and the scent of a boy that really should not be awake and trying to get him up.

"Why 'th fuck not?" he grumbled, trying to shift away from the hand still trying to pull him out of such blissful dreams. There was a sigh somewhere to his right and he thought that maybe he would be given five more minutes when a warm, slender body was suddenly draped over his own, the steady thrum of the younger man's heart pressed into his back as soft lips brushed against his ear.

"But there's so much more he could do with this day than sleep," just like that he was awake, memories from the night before flooding his awareness and before Peter could react, he had the boy flipped over on his back, pinned under the dark haired man, green eyes wide and startled. He started to protest loudly but Hook captured the sound with his lips, crushing his mouth to the younger man's and succeeding in rendering them both breathless. The full lips were warm under his own as he melded their mouths together in a deep kiss, tasting sunlight and something sweet as if the boy had been eating something sugary. He watched as the green eyes fluttered closed and a slender hand worked into his tangled hair, drawing him closer. Peter's lips parted under the assault and he let himself be swept away, diving into the wet heat and trying to drink in every last drop of the heady flavor.

They were both a little breathless as he pulled away, the bright pools of green already hazed over. Then the boy cocked a lopsided grin at him, lifting one slender eyebrow even as his free hand traced the line of the older man's top lip, the bright color deepening when Hook flicked the pad with the tip of his tongue.

"You aren't much a morning person, are you?" the boy asked with a cheeky grin and the dark haired man groaned, flopping down on top of the brunette much had he had done the night before. There was another yelp of protest, this one bellowed in his ear, making him wince.

"No, I hate mornings. Bed is so much nicer," he lifted his head to see the younger man glaring at him before he was shoved aside, the blanket that had been covering him slipping off his form and he scrubbed at his face as Peter huffed, slipping from the bed, though he caught the way that bright grin was working over the sweet lips.

"Just get up. The faeries left us breakfast and then I have something to show you," despite himself, he was intrigued and somehow managed to find strength in his legs to swing them to the mossy carpet so his dark eyes could follow the slender form of the younger man as he walked a few paces away to a large, shining tray propped up on a tree stump. For a second he couldn't do anything but stare as the brunette was still completely bare, watching the play of the soft, golden light on lean muscle. But then his stomach growled at him and he got reluctantly to his feet, joining the younger man where he sat on the soft ground.

Breakfast consisted of fruit, berries and apples and pears with an assortment of sweet sauces and cheese. Two silver cups held a surprisingly heavy red wine that offset the sweetness and was wonderfully filling. Remembering what the younger man had told him the night before, he asked about the place where Peter had disappeared to for several years and he listened, enraptured, as the boy told him with enthusiasm, the bright green eyes lit up. At one point he made a comment about a girl he referred to as Wendy and received a face full of one of the sauces, the sticky substance dripping from his hair. For a second they stared at one another in shock before he was tackling the younger man to the ground. There was a moment as they struggled, Peter laughing as he didn't even bother to hide his own grin before he let himself get pinned on his back. Somehow the boy seemed to think it would be a good idea to lick his face clean while straddling Hook's lap and the dark haired Captain caught a fistful of bright, chestnut hair, stilling the younger man's movements.

"You shouldn't do that unless you want to spend another two hours here," he growled, watching with dark, smoldering eyes as one slender finger swiped at some of the sticky sauce to disappear between the full lips. Peter grinned around the digit, freeing his hair so he could lean down again, the feel of his skin sliding against the older man's almost too much.

"Alright…" he licked a line up a straight nose, "We should…" a suck on the arch of a high cheek bone, "get dressed…" a very slow, lazy kiss and when he pulled back, all Hook could taste was the lingering flavor of something rich and sweet. Their eyes met and Peter, leaned forward once again, a tease in his smile, "James," to hear his name spoken like that, as if the single syllable was spun from sugar and the boy was devouring it very nearly cracked his resolve but he didn't flip the younger man over like he wanted to take him on the soft moss. Instead he allowed a swift kiss to his cheek and watched the boy lift himself to his feet, accepting a hand up.

"You're a damn tease, Pan," he growled as he made his way over the pile of his clothes and caught the shining laugh that was thrown over a golden shoulder. The smile that graced his own lips felt as if it belonged there, the feeling of it familiar, all the darkness that had long suppressed it melting away. They had a minor crisis when Peter found his pants draped over the branch of a nearby tree, the dark material hopelessly stained. The green eyes turned to him in distress as he fastened his own pants over his hips and he eyed the slender frame for a moment. Peter wasn't all that much smaller than him, actually, being nearly the same height but his build was slighter. With a wide grin, Hook walked over to the gnarled roots of the tree he had made the boy come against the first time and snatched up his jacket. The answering grin was enough.

The red jacket actually fit Peter quiet well, falling past his knees and hugging the slight curve of his hip as he fastened the gold buttons over his chest, the cuffed sleeves sometimes getting in the way. Surprisingly enough, it suited him and Hook realized that for a moment their roles were reversed, he in nothing but a pair of dark breeches and the boy decked out in the rich material. What shocked him even more was that he really didn't care.

"It suits you," he said and was nearly knocked flat by shining green eyes and an excited grin.

"Can I wear the boots and belt too?" and he found no reason in his heart to refuse.

When they left the clearing, both had changed, leaving their old selves and their past lives behind amid the green, lush foliage and stained silk, stepping away with something new. Hook's dark eyes had forever lost their perpetual glare, following the younger man as he bounded in front of him through the forest, sometimes taking to the air only to come back down a moment later, sometimes offering a smile and a touch, sometimes offering a swift kiss. All he knew was that there was a light burning away within his chest, healing the damage from years of confusion and hate. It would take time but it was a start.

And, really, the sight Peter made in his jacket and boots as he flitted through the air while guiding him to some unknown location was quiet appealing, especially knowing the boy was completely naked under the red coat. It seemed that the island had finally accepted him for even under his bare feet, the places where he tread were soft, easy to walk upon. Or, perhaps like Peter had said, he had finally accepted that this was home. Either way, their passage through the trees was easy.

Warm fingers curled around his own as they reached a certain part of the forest that seemed very alive, sunlight breaking in through the trees, grounding Peter for the moment as he led the older man through thick underbrush then down a slope where they entered a grove made of twisted roots from giant trees that arched high above their heads, creating long, dark tunnels. He blinked at the sudden loss of light, asking where they were. But Peter just shushed him and dragged him along. The dark haired Captain nearly brained himself a couple of times, narrowly avoiding getting strangled by a low hanging rope of stringy vines before the space opened up.

He stared.

So this was the famous hide out. He had to admit, it was nothing like he expected. The space was covered by the towering roots and a mesh of vines and leaves and there was an opening in the giant trunk of the tree before them. There were tables and places for lounging, a hammock clinging to rough branches. And inside the tree that had been hollowed and covered over was, for all intents and purposes, a bedroom. The bed was low but wide and candles had been scattered through the space, though they were dark now. He took it in, the worn run on the packed dirt ground, the little table full of maps and a book or two and just blinked when green eyes turned to him.

"Do you like it?" There was a breathless hope in the question and he swallowed hard, turning to the younger man, his own dark eyes wide.

"Yes, but, why are you showing me this?" and now it was his turn to hope, not realizing until the words had escaped his mouth that he wanted this to be offered to him. The boy smiled shyly.

"Well, I was thinking its more comfortable than a cabin on a ship and it stays dry during a storm so, if you'd like, you could, you know, stay," he assumed that when he snatched the brunette up in a searing kiss it would be answer enough. But when he pulled back, he answered anyway because that particular shade of green was blindingly bright and the long hair his hand was tangled in was warm and soft.

"I'd like to stay…Peter…"

* * *

He called him Peter. Not brat, scoundrel or whatever other insult he could dredge up but Peter.

The brunette laughed to hold back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him, letting himself be kissed again, and again. Then he pulled back, still laughing and he saw the same bright emotion mirrored in the dark eyes. Hook was offered a place to call home and Peter had found a place in which to entrust his heart. He would no longer need to look into the stars to seek the answers. All he needed was to tip his head just enough to drown in dark, onyx depths and it was more than enough.

As he stepped away to head back the way they had come, Hook looked at him in confusion, looking like just a man in his dark breeched and loose shirt, hair falling around his shoulders and feet bare upon the forest floor. And he was, just a man, but he belonged to Peter and that made a world of difference.

"Where are you going?" he asked and Peter smiled, holding out his hand.

"Don't you think the rest of your crew has been living on that ship long enough?" the grateful smile he was answered with was beautiful, perfect.

* * *

Peter looked every inch the monarch as they stepped from the forest into the full blaze of the bright sunlight, chestnut hair blazing and the red jacket belonging to the younger man more now than it ever did to the Captain. For a moment he saw a man, blazing with strength, spirit untamable as it blazing in the depths of the green eyes.

But then that man leaped into the sky with a whoop, for Peter was who he had always been, a kind of magic in his excitement and Hook stopped to watch, another smile curling at the corner of his lips. He didn't care what label he received for being Peter's lover as long as he was and he was able to finally acknowledge his heart because he had been given a place where he could keep it. He had a home and it was in a bright smile and eyes as green as spring grass and a free soul that could never be tamed or broken.

When the familiar sound of a triumphant crow rocketed across the island, he had never heard a more beautiful sound.

-_**The End**_-

**Epilouge? If not, that's all she wrote ;P What'd ya'll think? I know, I butchered a beloved childhood classic but it was just too good of an idea to pass up. Hmm, what other ones can I mutilate now...?**

**So, umm, it came to my attention that this version is not actually the version my beta corrected because my falsh drive must have been retarded and didn't save it. I didn't really go over it again and I apologize for any mistakes I might have missed. Please, it is not my beta's fault!! Blame the technology!!  
**


End file.
